Snape Split
by SwissMiss1
Summary: Snape is split into ten different aspects of his personality in a potions experiment gone awry. Who will come to his rescue? Could it be our favorite bushy haired know it all? SSHG. Mild implied slash. Unfinished.
1. Chapter 1: Dr Jekyll and Mr Snape

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter One: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Snape**

_AN: This was supposed to be a humourous fluff piece, but it seems to be developing into an angsty drama. Oh, well. You write what you know._

Severus Snape picked up the chamaeleon tongue with the silver pincette and carefully lowered it into the bubbling cauldron. A sizzling sound was heard and an oily rainbow spread out across the surface of the liquid as the tongue sank beneath the surface and dissolved. A faint smile snuck across the Potions master's features, then disappeared just as quickly as he concentrated on his task again.

The tiny lab was dark, the only light being the bright spot trained on the surface where Severus was working. It was three in the morning, a time when no one in his right mind should be working on a delicate task that required such enormous concentration. Precisely the reason why Severus was doing it at this time.

It was a very Dark potion that Severus was brewing, and no one was to know that he was working on it, not even Voldemort. He'd sealed himself into his personal potions laboratory deep beneath the derelict house at Spinner's End, far from prying eyes, ears, and minds. At Hogwarts, one never knew when Peeves would burst in and upset a shelf of basilisk eyes. And the lab which the Dark Lord kept ready for him to use at an undisclosed location was constantly liable to be monitored by the watchful tongue of Nagini.

It was definitely a risk for him to be trying to keep something like this from his Master, but a man had to have something for himself. He wasn't even sure whether he would use the potion once it was finished, but the work itself was a welcome respite from the intellectual stunting he experienced as the Potions professor at Hogwarts, as well as his own personal way of thumbing his nose at Voldemort's maniacal desire for control over every aspect of his followers' lives. If Severus hadn't been able to keep a small part of his existence to himself, even if it were something as banal as concocting mixtures of organic matter, chemicals and magic, he would surely have gone insane by now.

Perhaps his fear of being discovered was what was making him so nervous. That or the five doses of No-Sleep he'd taken in order to assure that he remained alert. Best hurry and finish up, he decided. Although a potion like this couldn't be hurried. Timing was of the essence. He gave the cauldron a single stir with a glass rod, in order to make sure that the tongue had disintegrated completely. A myriad of indigo, forest green, and crimson rainbows dappled the slick surface of the potion.

And now for the final ingredient. Snape carefully hefted a small, round mirror in his palm and then slammed it suddenly down onto the stone counter, being careful not to cut himself. He checked the shards meticulously for blood before dropping them into the solution as well. Now to wait. He set the hourglass timer for seven and a half minutes, and then leaned back on his stool, stretching his tense shoulders.

If all worked as planned, he would have replicated Dr. Jekyll's potion. Oh yes, Jekyll had been very real. And a wizard. Of course, the recipe was not Jekyll's original work; he had stolen it from the German genius, E.T.A. Hoffmann, a fantastic theorist who had never intended for the potion to be put to Dark use. But what a wonderful elixir he had invented: it would suppress completely the weaker side of a man's dual soul, allowing either pure good or pure evil to emerge. Hoffmann believed that his potion would be a cure-all for the violence that plagued his society: if every person with criminal tendencies would be dosed with it, all evil would be suppressed. His great error, of course, was that he was a naive philanthrope who believed in the basic good of all mankind. Unfortunately, it is all too often the opposite nature that thrives in a man's heart, struggling against the restrictions and social mores that prevent a descent into anarchy.

Snape suspected that Voldemort had taken the concoction at some point himself, for how else to explain his utter disregard for human life, his complete lack of conscience? It certainly would make it easier to survive within the ranks of the Death Eaters if one did not have to worry about burdening one's conscience. Snape's uncomfortable reason for brewing the potion was thus as a last resort for himself: if he were unable to bear the inhumanity and degradation of his service to the Dark Lord any longer, he would take the potion. It was a coward's way out, he knew, but he could not yet fathom taking his own life. He had too much of an instinct for self-preservation for that.

Suddenly, Snape felt a burning, itching on his left arm. He hissed in annoyance. He was being Summoned. A more inopportune time could scarcely have been chosen. He checked the timer. Four more minutes. He was torn: Apparate immediately and scrap the potion? Or make Voldemort wait four minutes and take the consequences... There had certainly been occasions in the past when he had appeared more than four minutes after the Summoning signal had been sent out; when he had been in the middle of a staff meeting, for example. He would simply say that he had been detained...but then what would detain him at three o'clock in the morning? It had to be something that would hold up to a mind probe as well. Well, a half truth would have to do. He wasn't going to abandon this potion at this juncture. He quickly threw on his Death Eater cloak and mask, then hovered over the cauldron, tapping his fingers impatiently against the worktop.

It seemed an eternity before the last grain of sand settled on the mound in the bottom of the hourglass. At that precise moment, Snape snatched up the vial he had previously made ready and skimmed off just the oily rainbows skittering on the surface. He'd dispose of the remaining black fluid later. Then, pocketing the securely stoppered vial, he stepped off his stool and disappeared with a hollow _pop_.

----------

"You're late."

"Apologies, Master. I was delayed."

"What could possibly have delayed you at this hour? Nott here has just tried to convince us that he couldn't find his cloak in the dark." Voldemort indicated a heap of moaning robes on the ground.

"I was in the middle of brewing a potion, Milord."

"A potion?" Voldemort's voice evinced interest, although his lizard-like face did not allow such fine expressions of emotion.

"Yes, I considered that it would be a shame to abandon the potion in the midst of brewing it, considering the cost and rarity of the ingredients."

"Money and material possessions are nothing to me," Voldemort replied harshly. "_Crucio_!"

Although he had expected it, Snape nonetheless was driven to his knees by the impact of the Curse. He let out a strangled sound that would have been a scream of pain if he had been able to breathe.

"And did you finish it?" Voldemort asked immediately when he ended the spell. "Is it something that we ought to know about?" His tone was now both greedy and suspicious.

Snape gasped for air. "No, Milord. I left it and rushed to your side when I realized how long it was taking." He had originally intended to say that he had finished the potion but that it had failed, but this now seemed the more prudent lie.

"Show me!" Voldemort commanded, approaching Snape and jabbing at him with his wand.

Snape raised his head from where he sat huddled on all fours and forced himself to look into the baleful red eyes, preparing himself for the invasion...

"_Legilimens_!"

There was the bubbling cauldron--breaking the mirror--the Summoning--the indecision--watching the hourglass--Apparating. It should be sufficient, he thought, and indeed, Voldemort lowered his wand.

"What potion was it?" he snapped.

"What, Milord?" Snape had understood the question perfectly well, but was now trying desperately to think of what other potions required broken mirrors...and was drawing a complete blank.

"What is the name of the potion you were working on?" Voldemort asked with little patience evident.

"It... It was an experiment, Master," he said, trying to calm his breathing. "As I said, I broke it off."

"_Crucio_!"

Again Snape writhed against the pain that burned into every nerve ending in his body. It went on longer this time, and he almost blacked out from lack of oxygen before he was finally released.

"You were about to tell us what potion it was...?" Voldemort prompted.

Black and red spots danced before Snape's eyes. Two of them might have been the Dark Lord's eyes. Or flecks of blood invading his vitreous humour. It was hard to tell.

"Milord..." he gasped, drawing a ragged breath through his ravaged throat. A potion...any potion...he couldn't think... "Wolfsbane..." he whispered, half in a daze. He'd brewed a batch just a few days ago for Lupin. He could show Voldemort that memory...

"Wolfsbane does not need a crushed mirror! _Crucio_!"

Every single muscle in Snape's body went into an extended cramp as a result of the overstimulation of the nerves. He felt his heart stand still. And then he lost consciousness.

----------

When he came to, he was still lying on the cold stone floor. The other Death Eaters were standing at silent attention, impassively awaiting orders. All except for two, who were huddled near Voldemort, murmuring quietly together. Snape tried to roll onto his side. Everything hurt.

"Milord, he's still alive," someone said.

The two Death Eaters and Voldemort all turned to look at Snape squirming on the floor.

"How convenient," Voldemort commented. "Perhaps you can enlighten us as to the exact nature of this potion." He held up a small glass bottle identical to the one into which Snape had decanted his potion earlier. "This wouldn't be the one you were working on earlier, would it?"

Snape groaned. They must have searched him while he was out. How incredibly, unforgivably stupid he had been, to take the potion with him.

Voldemort came over and knelt down beside the other wizard. He bent down very close and held the vial directly before Snape's prominent nose. "What is this, I wonder, that you were willing to die to protect it?" he breathed into Snape's ear.

It would do no good to deny it; he would be killed if he withheld the truth, now that Voldemort had the evidence in his hands. It was only a matter of time before one of the others was able to run an analysis on it, come up with its true nature. He would likely be killed if he told the truth anyway, for his earlier attempt at duplicity. His only hope was that the Dark Lord still needed him for some task, and so would let him live a little longer.

"Master, it was...meant to be an experiment," Snape managed to croak out. "I...am afraid...inferior product...not ready for use."

"Modesty has never become you." Voldemort's flat features spread into an approximation of a leer. He straightened up. "Get up," he commanded. "Help him up!" he barked into the round, and instantly Snape felt hands picking him up, heard someone cast the Reviving Charm, felt energy coursing through his abused limbs and invigorating his pain-dulled senses.

"And now, drink!" Voldemort thrust the unstoppered bottle toward Snape, who recoiled into the bank of Death Eaters supporting him.

He couldn't... If he drank it, he would turn into a monster, a Hyde, driven by animal lusts, unrestrained by human scruples; another Voldemort.

The self-appointed Dark Lord gloated lasciviously at the unfortunate wizard. "Do you need any help?" he asked hopefully.

Snape grimaced and took the potion with a shaky hand. If he was going to do this, he would do it of his own volition.

"Bottoms up, my boy," Voldemort encouraged him with a dry chuckle. Someone prodded him in the back.

Snape eyed the scintillating silvery liquid. There was always the possibility that he would be allowed to take the antidote later. He never considered that he could have made a mistake in his brewing, never noticed the tiny red mark on the heel of his hand where a sliver of glass had cut through the three layers of skin and allowed a miniscule drop of blood to escape. He never in his wildest dreams expected...

Grimly saying goodbye to his previous life, his only regret being that he had been unable to fulfill Dumbledore's last task for him, he downed the potion. For a moment, nothing happened as Voldemort and the other Death Eaters watched him expectantly. Then, a fire not entirely unlike the Cruciatus Curse in its intensity began to split apart his insides.

He screamed and fell to his knees, his head falling back into his neck as the other wizards moved away from him. It felt like someone was reaching into him, forcing him apart, pulling and wrenching... It occurred to him, in his last moment of lucidity, that this might be what Lupin felt like at the full moon, and he didn't envy him one bit.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"How very curious," was the first thing he heard. "I wonder, do they retain their magical ability? Or are they mere golems?"

Snape sat up and tried to clear his head. He had a massive headache. He recognized instantly where he was, though, remembered the Cruciatuses, the potion... The potion! Had it worked? He tried to see if he felt any different. He didn't feel like rushing out and killing people. That was good... Or not! Oh Merlin, what if the potion had had the opposite effect on him, turned him into some sort of saint... No, definitely not. He smirked to himself at the thoughts that arose in him. But what was it then... Something was definitely different. He felt somehow pure, uncluttered, focused... It was then that he noticed that he was stark naked. He looked around, wondering what had happened to his clothes...and saw nine other Snapes doing exactly the same thing.

_AN: Well, it's not exactly a totally original idea, but I hope to make it different and interesting enough to warrant reading. And yes, Hermione will be playing a major role. Just wait and see!_

_This story was inspired by "An Army of Snapes" by ladyofthemasque, archived at Ashwinder. Hers is much funnier and has more lemony goodness than mine._


	2. Chapter 2: In the All Together

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter Two:**

**- We're All Together in the All Together -**

_AN: It's going to get confusing for a bit now as all the Snapes interact. I'll try to keep them identifiable, but at this point, it's not really that important. Enjoy the free show!_

"Give him his wand."

A faceless Death Eater picked up Snape's wand from where it lay discarded amongst the remains of his clothing and thrust it into the nearest Snape's hand.

Multiple Snapes blinked and frowned. One pulled his knobbly knees up to his chest and slung his arms around his legs, looking distinctly ill-at-ease and insecure.

"And now show us whether you still retain your ability to do magic," Voldemort commanded.

Dutifully, the Snape with the wand pointed it at the pile of rags. "_Accio_ shirt." A piece of black material wriggled itself reluctantly free and half-heartedly dragged itself over to Snape's feet. The wizard picked it up and put it on. It hung in shreds from his thin shoulders. Snape looked neutrally up at Voldemort, awaiting another instruction.

Voldemort hissed in disapproval. "Too weak. Let another one try."

Snape obediently handed the wand to his nearest fellow, who stood up in all his naked glory and looked about with a wicked gleam in his eye. He pointed the wand at one of the Death Eaters and cried, "_Crucio_!"

"Ow," the other man complained, twitching to one side.

"_Crucio_!" Snape insisted, his arm extended and the lean muscles taut with the effort.

"Ouch, stop it," the Death Eater whined, rubbing at his back.

"Useless, the lot of you!" said Voldemort with extreme displeasure. He pointed his wand at a random Snape. "_Crucio_!"

The unfortunate duplicate screamed, his eyes rolling back into his head. One of the other Snapes whimpered and hid his face. A couple of others shot Voldemort venomous looks.

"_Crucio_! _Crucio_!" Voldemort cursed Snape after Snape until a good half-dozen of them were lying incapacitated and gasping on the floor.

The Snape with the wand, who was not among those who had been cursed, got caught up in the general spirit of things and turned a Cruciatus Curse of his own on one of his doppelgangers. After gripping his head briefly, the recipient glared at the initiator of the Curse, strode over, and snatched the wand out of his hand. "Stop it," he snapped. "What do you think you're doing?"

The Cruciatus-casting Snape shrugged and smirked sadistically. "It looked like so much fun.".

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" the now wand-wielding Snape growled at Sadistic-Snape, apparently deciding that, in the interest of self-preservation, it was better not to cast random Cruciatuses in a room full of armed Death Eaters.

Sadistic-Snape's body went stiff for a moment, but he remained standing and soon relaxed, crossing his arms across his bare chest and regaling the would-be attacker with a superior sneer.

"Enough!" Voldemort snapped. "A potion that produces Squibs by the dozen is of no use to me. Fix this mess--" He waved an angry hand at the array of naked Potions masters before him. "--and don't waste my time with such useless diversions again!" Directing one final Cruciatus at the nearest Snape, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

The remaining Death Eaters blinked at each other in surprise, then slowly and as inconspicuously as possible, slunk out themselves, leaving only the ten naked Snapes. Well, nine naked Snapes and one with the remains of what had once been a tailor-made shirt on his back.

"Oh God," Insecure-Snape gulped. He was obviously quite distraught.

"Get a hold of yourself," another one sneered down at him. "You are Severus Snape, after all."

"This isn't what I expected to happen," a third one fretted. "I know I followed the directions to the letter."

"Hmmm..." yet another Snape mused thoughtfully. "There are several explanations... However, the most important thing now is for us to get back to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts!" Stickler-Snape exclaimed disapprovingly. "Don't you mean Spinner's End? That's where I-- Strictly speaking, we-- created the potion, and that must be where we will find the clues we need to reverse this disaster."

"That may well be," Smart-Snape conceded. "However, we are due to teach the second-years in a little over three hours. We will be unable to fix what has been done in that short time."

"I agree," chimed in a new Snape. "We mustn't shirk our duty."

"You underestimate our ability," remarked a Snape with a proud look. "We have yet to face a challenge that has been beyond us."

Stickler-Snape, who had just a moment ago argued so forcibly for returning to Spinner's End, seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before saying, "It is true that we have a contract to fulfill. That would seem to take precedence."

"Don't tell me you're going to give up that easily," protested Iron-Will Snape, the one who had told Insecure-Snape to get a hold of himself, aghast. "We have a directive, to fix this mess, and we have to follow through."

"You all can do what you want," snarled another Snape. "I for one am not going back to that dreary castle."

"But you must!" cried Self-Preserving-Snape. "We cannot allow ourselves to be split up!"

"That is none of my concern," the snarling Snape countered. "I'm going after that bastard of a Dark Lord. Thinks he can Crucio me and get away without a fight--" He stalked toward the door with revenge on his mind, snatching at the wand in Self-Preserving-Snape's hand.

Self-Preserving-Snape, however, refused to relinquish control of the wand and got into quite a tussle with Vengeful-Snape, during which bits wagged and swung with abandon. "I will only give this up to someone who has an idea of how to get us back together," he vowed, gritting his teeth.

"Quite," agreed Smart-Snape. "We must remain together. As we have seen, our magic has been diluted. I very much doubt that any one of us alone would have the magical strength to Apparate. And," he added sagely, "we only have the one wand among us."

All the other Snapes looked greedily at the one with the wand. He, in turn, stood his ground defiantly, giving Vengeful-Snape a particularly triumphant look.

"I propose that we join together and attempt to channel our magic into the wand for an Apparition to Hogwarts," said Smart-Snape.

"What...naked?" Insecure-Snape looked up despairingly at the others. He hugged his knees even more tightly. The others looked down their long and crooked noses at him with quite some disdain.

"Come on!" One of the Snapes pulled Insecure-Snape roughly to his feet. "It's not like we haven't all seen what you've got." He looked him over with a glare.

"His is smaller than the rest of ours," noted Sadistic-Snape archly, pointing at Insecure-Snape's genitals.

Insecure-Snape immediately crouched down again, looking up at Sadistic-Snape with a hurt expression.

Proud-Snape craned his neck to get a look at Insecure-Snape and then scrutinized his own privates. "There's nothing wrong with mine," he ascertained smugly.

"Stop being childish," Self-Preserving-Snape chided him, irritated. "We're all exactly the same, and now I say you all come over here and let's try what he said. It seems to be our best shot at getting back to normal."

Most of the Snapes seemed to agree, or at least they moved into a sort of cluster around the wand, everyone touching some part of it with a finger.

Insecure-Snape hung back until the others had their backs to him before scrambling to pick up the remains of his clothes and arranging them strategically about his person.

"Come along now, you, too," Smart-Snape said to Vengeful-Snape, who was scowling off to the side. "I promise you, if you want to get back at the Dark Lord--"

"Oh no, that would most definitely not be in our best interest," interjected Self-Preserving-Snape.

"Who cares about best interests," snarled Vengeful-Snape. "I just want to kick his arse around a bit, see how he likes it."

"As I was saying..." Smart-Snape raised his voice to be heard over the bickering. "As I was saying, you will not be able to achieve anything in your current state. None of us will. And I venture that we will need all of our magic in order to achieve a successful Apparation."

Vengeful-Snape stomped over to the group and roughly added his grip to the others on the wand, making his unwillingness clear.

"Now remember," intoned Stickler-Snape, "Destination, Determination, Deliberation--"

"Can we get on with it already?" snapped Vengeful-Snape. "I'm not going to waste my time listening to a lecture from you--"

Smart-Snape rolled his eyes. "Severuses, if you please? On my mark: One...two...three."

And with a somewhat wonky-sounding _pop!_, they disappeared.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"I believe I understand now what has happened." Smart-Snape was sitting in his favourite chair before a roaring fire in his private quarters.

Stickler-Snape raised an eyebrow at him from the desk, where he had been poring over a pile of books. "You think so?" he asked suspiciously. "I've gone back over it a hundred times myself, and can't find a single point at which we deviated from the formula."

"I'm not talking about that," Smart-Snape retorted with a frown. "The point is immaterial of what exactly went wrong. It is much more pertinent that we recognize what state we are in now, and how to get back."

Insecure-Snape emerged at that point from the bathroom, where he had holed himself up with the scraps of clothing which the other Snapes had left him, causing several of the others to snigger and one to cackle outright (probably Sadistic-Snape).

As soon as they had arrived back in their quarters (after a breathless streak across the pre-sunrise, dew-kissed grounds), there had been a general scramble for items from the wardrobe. Most of them had managed to piece together fairly decent-looking wizarding ensembles, but two had had to resort to the Muggle costumes Snape kept on hand for eventualities, and a further one was wearing Snape's nightshirt. Insecure-Snape had been left with the dregs, and was currently wearing a pair of purple Muggle bathing trunks, two unmatched socks, and a Slytherin robe three sizes too small that a student had left behind in the Potions classroom two years ago after an accident with Bubotuber pus and never reclaimed. The yellowish splotches were testimony as to why.

Insecure-Snape frowned and whined petulantly in answer to his co-Snapes' mirth, "It's all there was left!"

"You look as pathetic as you are," Sadistic-Snape sneered. "I can't believe you're actually one of us."

"Nor can I," agreed Proud-Snape. "You were the one thing I was ever ashamed of."

Insecure-Snape looked quite hurt and wandered over to the window.

Smart-Snape looked back at Stickler-Snape without comment and resumed his earlier line of thought: "As I was saying, it appears that, rather than suppressing our so-called 'good' half, the potion divided our personality into ten facets, each housed in its own body. It is a quite remarkable thing to have happened, but, as our Master has already noted, also quite useless. For our magic was also divided, rendering us all but impotent."

"That's all well and good," Stickler-Snape retorted, "but it doesn't help us get back to how we were. If you all would help me look through these books instead of worrying about personality facets and fashion statements, we would come that much more quickly to a solution."

"Has anyone noticed that it's ten minutes to nine?" Dutiful-Snape piped up. He had been keeping a close eye on the magical timepiece on the desk and becoming ever more nervous as the minutes ticked away.

"That's right, we haven't had any breakfast yet. We should really eat in order to keep our strength up," Self-Preserving-Snape urged.

"I'm talking about class!" Dutiful-Snape cried, fairly wringing his hands in agitation. "We can't be late to class!"

"We also can't all teach it," Stickler-Snape remarked. "That simply wouldn't do to have ten of us standing up in front of the class."

Sadistic-Snape got a gleam in his eye. "It would scare the hell out of Longbottom, though."

"No, we cannot all go, that is clear," Smart-Snape agreed. "Why don't you go." He nodded toward Dutiful-Snape. "I trust you will keep the students in line. And you do look at least presentable."

Dutiful-Snape nodded smartly. He hadn't gotten the first pick of the clothes, but he was at least wearing a black robe; it is believed that he was wearing only a pair of long underwear underneath, but there was no need for that to be revealed during the course of a lesson.

"Agreed," said Stickler-Snape. "In the meantime, the rest of us can look through these books. He'll need the wand, though," he added, just as Dutiful-Snape was about to leave. "He must appear to class with a wand."

"Yes, I suppose he will," Smart-Snape sighed. "Go on, give it to him," he instructed Self-Preserving-Snape, who had still managed to retain possession of the wand.

Sadistic-Snape watched jealously as the wand changed hands.

"And for God's sake, please, the rest of you stay here," Dutiful-Snape admonished them. "Although, some of you might get started grading those third-year essays."

"Yes, yes," Stickler-Snape muttered, his nose already buried in his book again, "be off now, wouldn't want to be late, would you?"

"Hrmph." Sadistic-Snape rolled his eyes.

And with a final glare, Dutiful-Snape slipped out, making sure that the door clicked firmly shut behind him.

"Here, the rest of you, come over here and help me," Stickler-Snape commanded, indicating the pile of unopened books before him.

Several of the remaining Snapes complied, but Vengeful-Snape said with a snarl, "I most emphatically will not! I will not waste my time pawing through some dusty books. I may be without magic, but I haven't forgotten a certain shopkeeper's attempt to cheat us last week." He strode to the door.

"You're not-- But you can't!" exclaimed Self-Preserving Snape. "We mustn't be separated!"

The only answer was the quiet snap of the door falling into the latch.

"Let him go," murmured Smart-Snape, barely looking up from the book he had selected. "We'll be better off without him. And who knows, maybe he can really talk some sense into Sparks."

"I've also thought of something more useful I could be doing," said Sadistic-Snape with a wicked grin, and slipped out before anyone could say anything.

Self-Preserving Snape rounded on Smart-Snape. "Do you really think it best to let him wander about unattended? He's bound to do something quite ill-considered."

Smart-Snape looked at the door with narrowed eyes. "I suppose he is," he agreed. "But then he has no wand," he pointed out. "I dare say he won't be able to do much more than deduct a few House points."

Several of the other Snapes looked at each other uneasily.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Did you notice anything...odd...about Professor Snape?" Hermione asked Harry as they left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Other than the fact that he's a sodding, greasy bastard?" Ron muttered from behind them. He had cashed in twenty-five minus points in the course of the class, while Harry and Hermione hadn't been docked any, and he was feeling very much put-out.

"You mean the fact that he took points from Zabini for turning Parvati's hair into poison oak?" Harry asked. "Yeah, I did think that was unusual. He doesn't usually take points from Slytherin."

"Yes," Hermione agreed with a pensive frown. "And the fact that he only took ten points from Ron for having left his homework up in the dorm--"

"Oy!" Ron protested.

"Well, Ron," Hermione said in a know-it-all way, "you really should have checked that you had it with you before you came down. And ten points was only fair."

Ron grumbled something about fairness and his arse.

"But that's the point," Hermione continued. "It was fair. Last week he docked Neville twenty for the same thing. He was really...well...fair today. Don't you think?"

"I guess," Harry said with a shrug. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Hermione. Maybe he's realized what a git he's been and he's turned over a new leaf."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and then said at the same time, "Not!" and laughed.

"No, seriously, Harry, I think there's something going on," Hermione said once she'd recovered her composure. "Did you also notice..." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I think he had on grayish...I don't know...jodhpurs, or something, underneath his robes."

"And this is of interest because...?" Harry inquired.

"Well, he always wears black trousers, doesn't he?" Hermione retorted, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ron and Harry exchanged alarmed looks. "You actually notice what Snape wears?" Ron asked incredulously.

Hermione looked slightly self-conscious. "No, it's not that," she said fussily. "It just-- You see--" She clicked her tongue. "Oh, honestly, forget I mentioned it," she said, hurrying ahead of them. "Come on, we'll be late for Potions!"

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

That evening, the entire Great Hall was abuzz with complaints about Snape.

From Ravenclaw: "He took away fifty points because he said my owl shit on his head. I don't even own an owl!"

From Hufflepuff: "He gave me detention every Saturday until the end of term! How unfair is that? He knows the team haven't got a chance to beat Slytherin without me!"

From Slytherin: "Is he still our Head of House or what? I'm going to owl my father and believe you me, he won't take too kindly to what went on today."

And from Gryffindor: "See? I told you there was something going on with him," Hermione hissed across the table to Harry.

Harry poured a generous dollop of gravy onto his roast. "With who?"

"Professor Snape, of course! Haven't you heard everyone talking about him?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really." He craned his neck to get a look up at the Staff Table. "He's not even here."

Neville leaned across Ron to speak to Hermione. "I ran into him outside Greenhouse Two," he confided with wide eyes. "It was like he was waiting for me."

"Mm," Hermione said with a look that said she was trying to place the significance of that bit of information. "And what did he want?"

Neville shrugged. "Nothing, really, just said something about me being a sorry excuse for something-or-other--"

"That's terrible!" Hermione said sympathetically.

"It's no big deal," Neville said stoically. "But the point it, I know for a fact that he was teaching fifth-year Defense to the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs that hour," he finished, and Hermione raised her eyebrows triumphantly.

"Ah-ha!"

Ron frowned. "Ah-ha?"

"Ah-ha!" Hermione repeated with an emphatic nod.

"What does it mean?" Neville asked, and the rest of the Gryffindors nearby stopped eating to listen to Hermione's answer.

"It means..." she began. Then her face fell. "I don't know what it means."

The others looked at each other with puzzled expressions.

"But it means something, you can bet on that," she said grimly. "And I'm going to find out what."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Immediately after dinner, Hermione headed for the library. What was going on? Snape behaving fairly on the one hand, then worse than ever on the other hand. Docking points from his own House...seemingly being in two places at once...deviating from his usual wardrobe... It was all very confusing, but Hermione felt confident that if an answer were to be had, it would be found in the library.

She headed straight for the Restricted Section, not having any particular subject in mind, but feeling certain that where Snape was concerned, no run-of-the-mill magic was in play. And she was convinced that there was magic at the bottom of it.

She considered the possibility of a Time-Turner, especially in light of Neville's testimony that Snape had been in two places at the same time. As far as she knew, all the Ministry Time-Turners had been destroyed the previous year during their break-in at the Ministry, but that didn't mean there weren't unregistered instruments around, or that Snape hadn't achieved time travel by means of a spell.

But that wouldn't explain the seemingly bizarre behaviour, nor the altered wardrobe...unless they were dealing here not with a time traveller, but with a visitor from a parallel universe. Hermione got goose bumps just thinking about it. It was all speculation, of course, but the theory had been bandied about that travel between alternate time threads might be possible. Maybe an alternate Snape had found his way into their universe; one who wore grey jodhpurs and wasn't quite so snarky as theirs.

It was thus a very excited Hermione Granger who headed into the Restricted Section that evening, expecting to find something surprising, but perhaps not quite so surprising as what she actually did find there: A wizard with long, dark hair, huddled in her favourite reading nook, his robe pulled tightly about himself and...sniffling?

Hermione walked carefully closer. It looked like-- Could it be...? The man had his head buried in his arms, his legs drawn up underneath him. Muffled, hiccupy breathing sounds were audible, as if he were quietly crying.

Hermione stopped a few steps away from him. "Professor?" she said tentatively.

The man froze, then slowly lifted his head. His face was pale, and he looked startled. Skittish. Hermione couldn't be sure, because of the shadows, but it looked like his robe wasn't closed all the way, and that his chest was bare underneath it. She got a very uneasy feeling.

"Professor Snape?" she asked. "Are...you alright?"

"They sent me away," he replied in a small voice.

Hermione considered this for a moment, then, after deciding that it didn't make any sense yet, asked cautiously, "Who did?" The people from his time? From his universe?

"The other Severuses." He started to get choked up. "They didn't want me around, said I was useless."

"Oh." That didn't make things any clearer, in Hermione's opinion. In fact, she was starting to get the sneaking suspicion that Professor Snape had simply lost his mind. That wasn't nearly as exciting as a time traveller, and a good deal more frightening. She tried another tack. "And where are the other Severuses?"

"Most of them are down in our quarters. I'm not really sure. The vengeful one came back with a broken nose, so he might have gone to see Madam Pomfrey."

"Right," Hermione said slowly. "I think we should go see Professor Dumbledore."

"Oh, no!" Snape exclaimed in a stage whisper, a look of horror on his face. "He'll make fun of me, I--" He glanced down at himself. "I'm not dressed properly." He tried to pull the obviously too-small robe tighter around his chest.

"Yes, I had noticed that earlier," Hermione murmured, half to herself, then added, firmly, "I promise you, though, he won't make fun of you. Come on. I'll go with you and make sure."

Snape shook his head hastily. "No, you hate me, you and your friends from Gryffindor. They all hate me. You're just going to set me up for one of your pranks."

"Professor," Hermione said in a bossy tone, "I guarantee you that there is nothing further from my mind." Although I couldn't vouch for Harry and Ron, she added to herself. "I just want to help you. Professor Dumbledore will be able to help you. Come on now." She took a step back and nodded at him to join her.

Very slowly, Snape uncurled himself from his seat. Hermione was sore pressed not to laugh at the sight of the bathing trunks, but she had promised, and so she very straight-facedly stood aside and allowed her half-dressed professor to lead the way up to the Headmaster's office.


	3. Chapter 3: Close Encounters

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter Three:**

**- Close Encounters of the Snape Kind -**

"Enter!" Professor Dumbledore's voice called out cheerfully.

Snape looked around uncertainly at Hermione, but she shooed him forwards, and he took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the Headmaster's office.

Hermione followed a step behind and was about to explain the reason for their presence, but Dumbledore spoke first. And he sounded quite surprised.

"Severus!" His bushy white eyebrows rose nearly to his receding hairline.

Snape clutched at the too-small robe and seemed to shrink into himself.

Hermione was again about to say something by way of explanation, but yet another voice spoke up. And it sounded irritated.

"Severus! And I'll bet I know which one you are, too, by the looks of you. Useless, snivelling--"

Hermione stepped into the office to see Professor Snape seated before the Headmaster's desk. Another Professor Snape. She looked from the one she had accompanied to the other one. Professor Dumbledore did the same. The two Snapes looked exactly the same. Aside from the clothes, of course.

"Well," Dumbledore ascertained. "This is a surprise. I suppose one of you will have an explanation of some sort." He sat back and settled into his chair for what he clearly expected to be an entertaining lecture.

"Isn't this just like you, causing us trouble as usual," the seated Snape said with disgust to the other one. "You and your bloody insecurities. Serves you right, getting trodden on like you do. If it weren't for you, we would have been able to stand up to people like Sparks in the first place. Save me getting a broken nose."

The standing Snape only nodded miserably and hung his head.

"I hope you know there is no way in hell you're going to get me to get back into a body with him!" The seated Snape glared at the Headmaster.

"Mmm," mused Dumbledore. "So you have been split. How very interesting. An accident, I presume? Or was it deliberate?"

"It was an accident," snarled the seated Snape, "but I feel much better off this way. Not only am I rid of him, but the bloody dutiful one as well. Although, I admit it might not have been a bad idea to have the smart one along with me this afternoon," he added grudgingly. "Or at least the self-preserving one." He rubbed his nose, which looked to Hermione to be the same as it ever had been. Madam Pomfrey must have fixed it already, she surmised.

Professor Dumbledore sat forward, ears perked. "You mean there are more? How many?"

"Ten," the seated Snape grumbled, and shot Insecure-Snape a deathly look. "I'm going to get you later," he said through gritted teeth.

Insecure-Snape shuddered and looked back at Hermione. As if she could do anything about that. So it hadn't been a Time-Turner or an inter-dimensional hop after all. Professor Snape had been somehow "split" (whatever that meant) into ten Professor Snapes. Ten Professor Snapes. The idea was...frightening. Although they didn't all seem to be so bad. The one she'd found in the library, at any rate, was hardly intimidating. Kind of pathetic, actually. In a lost bunny sort of way. But now the Headmaster was addressing her.

"Ah, Miss Granger," he was saying, "I'm sorry I didn't acknowledge you before. I take it you are here to share your knowledge of this..." He gestured between the two Professors Snape. "...this state of affairs, hm?" He looked most hopeful.

"No, actually, Sir," she admitted, "I just found Professor Snape-- I mean, this Professor Snape--" She nodded at the one in the purple swimmers. "--in the library, and he seemed a little...off...and I thought it best to bring him right up to see you. Sir."

"Mm," Dumbledore mused again and absently picked up a handful of M&Ms from the bowl on his desk.

There was an awkward silence, during which Vengeful-Snape glared, Hermione goggled, Dumbledore munched, and Insecure-Snape tried, unsuccessfully, to sink through the floor.

"Well," Dumbledore finally said, once he had swallowed the chocolates. "We clearly cannot leave Professor Snape in this state. Suggestions? Anyone?" He looked hopefully around the room.

"I told you, I'm not going back," Vengeful-Snape retorted.

Insecure-Snape merely stared at the floor.

When Dumbledore let his blue-eyed gaze rest upon Hermione, she was a little startled. He, the great Albus Dumbledore, was asking her for help? She'd have thought he'd just wave his wand and tidy up this little problem in a jiffy; but it seemed he, too, was stumped. She thought: What could one do in a situation like this? Of course!

"Maybe there's something in the library?" Hermione piped up in what she hoped was a helpful way.

Dumbledore's wrinkled countenance broke out into a broad smile. "The library! Miss Granger, you aren't called the cleverest witch of your age for nothing. That sounds like an excellent suggestion."

Vengeful-Snape rolled his eyes and growled something to himself.

"If I might, however, make the tiniest of suggestions," Dumbledore continued. "Might it not be advantageous to interview the... shall we say, the rest of the Professor, in order to see what we are up against? Hmm?" He continued to smile benignly from Hermione to Snape. Er, Snapes.

Hermione blushed furiously and looked at the floor. "Yes, Sir," she said, fidgeting with her feet.

"Splendid. Run along then, if you would, and tell them that I await them here. I think it best that I keep an eye on this one." He inclined his head in an amiable manner toward the unfriendly Snape in the chair.

Hermione turned around and hurried away on her errand. How exciting! Usually it was she, Ron, and Harry that got into fixes. Well, and Neville. Ginny'd had her fair share, too, admittedly, what with the whole Chamber of Secrets thing, and she'd been at the Ministry last year, too. But their adventures always had to do with Voldemort, even if in a roundabout way. This, however, this was something quite new and flashy. And it was all hers. Ten Snapes! She would be interested to see how Professor Dumbledore got them all back together.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Professor Snape?" Hermione knocked on his door. The seated Snape (Hermione had secretly begun to think of him as "Mean-Snape") had said that the rest of them were in his quarters. There was no answer, however.

"Professor Snape?" She knocked again, harder and longer. "Sir, Professor Dumbledore needs to see you." She looked around to see if anyone were nearby. Somehow, she thought that discretion would be the better part of valor in these circumstances. "Sir," she said as loudly as she dared, talking right into the door, "it's about your split!"

Mere seconds later, the door was flung open. Professor Snape blinked down at her with an immensely displeased expression. "What did you say?" he demanded in his best Snape manner.

"I-- That is, Professor Dumbledore and, er, two more of you, are waiting up in his office. They want to see you... the rest of you." She craned her neck curiously to try to see any other Snapes that might happen to be reposing in the professor's quarters.

"Just a minute." Snape closed the door abruptly, leaving Hermione out in the corridor. Somewhat nonplussed, she pressed her ear to the door in an attempt to hear what was going on inside, but there must have been a Permanent Silencing Charm on the door, for she couldn't hear a thing. Suddenly, the door was yanked open again, and Hermione fell into the room. She hurriedly picked herself up, feeling more than a little foolish, and was astounded to find herself surrounded by a good half-dozen Snapes. Some of them were wearing very unusual clothing combinations. In fact, one of them seemed to be wearing... yes, that was a nightshirt. Hermione suppressed a giggle at the sight of the spindly legs poking out.

"The Headmaster sent you down to get us?" one of the Snapes questioned her with a disbelieving air.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I found one of you in the library, and took him up to the Headmaster because he seemed a little off, no offense, and there was another one already there. And he told us, the mean one, I mean--" Hermione froze, realizing what she had just said, but the others didn't seem to take exception to her judgment, so she plowed on, "He told us that you'd gotten split--" She took great pleasure in tossing out this word, as if she knew what she was talking about. "--and that the rest of you were down here. Professor Dumbledore didn't want to leave the... erm, the others alone, so he sent me down to get you. Since I already knew about it, I suppose. It is supposed to be a secret, isn't it?" She looked eagerly around at the seven glowering faces.

"It's not anymore," one of them replied dryly.

Hermione stiffened her back. "I haven't told anyone," she defended herself staunchly.

"And we will have to see to it that you don't," said a Snape wearing a charcoal-grey turtleneck and woolen trousers. Hermione was surprised at how well he looked.

But before she knew what was happening, the door closed behind her with a very solid-sounding thud. She looked around in a slight panic and backed slowly away, groping for the door handle.

"What do you mean?" she asked, not sure to whom she should address her comments. Did it matter?

"We can't have you running back up to your little friends--"

"Potter," interjected a Snape in a Saville row suit, curling his lip. _Nice look_, Hermione thought, doing a double take.

"--tittering about us--"

"--he already knows more than he should--"

"--spreading rumours and lies--"

"--cocky, self-important child--"

"--you always seem to poke your nose into business that doesn't concern you, don't you?"

Hermione was getting dizzy trying to keep straight who was saying what. So many black eyes boring into her, so much black cloth swirling about her, so many black-haired figures closing in on her. "Professor Dumbledore knows I'm here!" she cried out in desperation, hoping that the reminder would guarantee her some protection.

"Of course he does, you already said that," retorted a Snape wearing casual wizarding attire in a snippy manner. "Do you take us for fools?" He glanced around at the others, giving the one in a rather worn set of robes a particularly disdainful look. "All right, most of us, at any rate," he conceded. He reached out and grabbed Hermione's arm suddenly, glaring at her with glittering eyes. "Now come!" he commanded.

She tried to pull away, her heart now beating wildly. He couldn't--! Had the "split", whatever it was, sent him over the brink into insanity?

The Snape holding her arm frowned at her. "What's the matter, silly girl? I thought you said the Headmaster was waiting to see us?"

"I can only imagine what the others have gotten up to," another one said, rolling his eyes and walking away from Hermione.

"I told you we should never have let the sadistic one wander the halls," Turtleneck-and-Trousers-Snape scolded as he followed his fellow.

Hermione registered that with some surprise: _There's a sadistic one?_ But then she wasn't surprised after all. That must be the one in the office.

"Come on, you're making us late, and we still have all those essays to grade," the Snape in teaching robes reproved them. Most of the Snapes had moved to the other end of the room, and were looking back at Hermione and the Snape holding her with some impatience.

"Yes, what is the problem, Miss Granger?"

"I-- Why aren't we going this way, then?" she asked, confused, indicating the now-closed door.

Snape groaned. "You don't expect us to traipse through the halls like this, do you? We will take a little-known passageway."

"Do you really think it wise that she know of it?" asked Trousers-Snape sharply.

"She will have to be Obliviated anyway," the casually-dressed professor pointed out practically.

And Hermione was left to dwell on that thrilling prospect as she was dragged through a hidden door.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-


	4. Chapter 4: The Truth Will out

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter Four: The Truth Will Out**

"Well, well, well. Here we are then." Professor Dumbledore beamed at the Professor Snapes trooping into his office. "Severus..." He nodded and smiled pleasantly. "Severus... So good to see you. Severus... May I offer you a cup of tea? No? For you then, Severus? Find a seat, everyone."

Hermione squeezed into the room along with the-- She quickly counted them up-- nine Professor Snapes... Nine? Hadn't the mean one said there were ten? She counted again under her breath. No, there were really only nine. Hermione frowned. There was the mean one--the sadistic one, she supposed, the others had called him...or was it the vengeful one? Was that the same thing?--still sitting there glowering, and there was the one she'd found, the insecure one. Then the one who'd kept an iron grip on her all the way through the dark passageway they'd taken up here...He was wearing the casual wizarding clothes...She wondered what his characteristic was. Then there was the one in the nightshirt, the one--

The Snape who was holding her shoved her down onto a rickety wooden fold-up chair. "Sit," he commanded her in an undertone. She didn't think for a moment of disobeying. In fact, she leaned forward on the edge of the chair, eager to hear what would happen next.

"Are we all here, then? Splendid," Dumbledore was saying.

"Wait--" a Snape wearing a waistcoat but no robe said sharply. "One is missing."

Dumbledore raised his brows and looked around at the assembled black-haired wizards. "Oh ho?" he queried.

The other Snapes took a quick survey of their fellows as well.

The one who had dragged Hermione upstairs, Casual-Dress-Snape, nodded in quick affirmation. "Yes. There should be ten of us. I see only nine."

"I told you!" cried the one in the charcoal-grey turtleneck in an accusatory tone. "We never should have let him out on his own. He's the biggest troublemaker of all!"

Vengeful-Snape chuckled. "The boldest, you mean. Not afraid of doing what we really all want to do."

"I certainly don't," the Snape in teaching robes sniffed. "Not just for the sake of being cruel, anyway."

"We have to find him!" insisted Turtleneck-Snape.

"Not to worry," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I'm sure he'll crop up on his own. The rest of you have, after all. Until then, however, perhaps one of you can tell me what happened?"

Several of the Snapes exchanged skeptical looks, but the one who had grabbed Hermione cleared his throat and was about to begin when Turtleneck-Snape suddenly interrupted, "She's still here!" and pointed at Hermione.

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore said patiently. "Miss Granger was good enough to bring Severus here" --he gestured to the poor soul in the too-small robe-- "to my attention in the first place. I think she is just as curious as I as to what has caused your...situation."

"It would be _inappropriate_ for her to hear the details, Headmaster," Turtleneck-Snape insisted. "In fact, she should be Obliviated and sent back to her common room."

"Absolutely. Obliviation is what she deserves for putting her nose where it doesn't belong," Vengeful-Snape concurred.

"I disagree," spoke up Waistcoat-Snape. "Obliviation is only called for in cases where there is danger of exposure of the wizarding world. That is clearly not the case here."

"Oh, stick it up your nose, you stickler," snarled Vengeful-Snape.

"Now, now," Dumbledore spoke appeasingly, holding up his good hand. "This is clearly not going to get us anywhere. Miss Granger remains where she is until I decide otherwise. Now, have you a spokesperson? Someone who can relate the facts in a non-emotional manner?"

The other Snapes looked at Waistcoat-Snape and Casual-Dress-Snape. Waistcoat-Snape inclined his head slightly in the other's direction, and Casual-Dress-Snape began once again. "I was brewing a potion, a most delicate and Dark draught, when I was Summoned." He gave the Headmaster a hard look, and the latter nodded in understanding.

"Yes, go on," he said.

"In my haste to complete the potion, I must have made an error. Not realizing this, however, I bottled the results and took them with me. At my destination, I was put under duress to reveal the nature of the potion, and, being unwilling to do so, was finally forced to drink the contents. You see the result."

Silence followed this brief synopsis.

"Mmm," Dumbledore mused after a bit. "Can you reveal the nature of the potion which you meant to create?"

"Hoffmann's Duality Elixir." Snape was clearly using the lesser-known name in an attempt to hide its true identity from Hermione.

But Hermione nevertheless gasped involuntarily. Of course, she knew very well what that was. Yes, it was a Dark potion, but she had found references to it in her extensive reading.

Insecure-Snape whimpered.

"Are you sure you're the smart one?" taunted Turtleneck-Snape. "Now she knows!"

"I hardly think it matters at this point; the potion was a failure anyway," snarled Smart-Snape (previously Casual-Dress-Snape) back. "Come to think of it, it was probably your fault! You were so worried about being Summoned, you distracted us from the brewing!"

Turtleneck-Snape raised his black brows haughtily. "Oh, yes? Without me, we all would have been dead long ago! Brains alone won't get you out of all the fixes some of the others have gotten us into!"

"Give me the wand, and I'll fix him for good," growled Vengeful-Snape, glaring daggers at Turtleneck-Snape, whom Hermione realized was the self-preserving one.

Hermione shivered involuntarily, having been on the receiving end of that glare before.

"_The_ wand?" inquired Dumbledore politely.

"Yes," said Smart-Snape with a curt nod toward Teaching-Robes-Snape, who waggled the long black stick obligingly in the air. "We only have the one wand among us. Obviously, the potion had no duplicating effect on our possessions."

"Ahhh," Dumbledore said, as if he had just had an epiphany. "I was wondering about your most eclectic apparel. You have obviously stretched the limits of your wardrobe, and then some." He turned with an amused look to Insecure-Snape, who squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

A light also went on for Hermione. So when the 'split' had occurred, the professor's body had been duplicated, but left in the nude. Well, that was quite amusing. Ten naked Snapes. She giggled to herself. Ten buck-naked Professor Snapes. A mental image began to form. Ten Potions masters in their birthday suits. The image took on dimension. Ten pale-skinned, fully-formed adult male wizards-- Abruptly, Hermione's stomach did a flip-flop and she forced herself to throw a mental sheet over the show that had been about to unfold in her mind. Don't--Go--There! she admonished herself sharply and returned her attention to the discussion.

"So," Dumbledore said, placing his good hand palm-down on the desk before him. "We must either get you back together posthaste, or else owl Madam Malkin with your measurements and arrange for some more comfortable robes to be delivered at her earliest convenience."

"That won't be necessary!" three or four Snapes shouted at once.

Dumbledore looked around bemusedly. "No?"

"I feel confident that we will be able to rectify this problem quickly," Smart-Snape stated.

"Indeed," said Stickler-Snape.

"Without a doubt," averred the Snape in the nightshirt with pride.

"Without me," vowed Vengeful-Snape.

"Headmaster, you must impress upon him the importance of us all working together," implored Dutiful-Snape.

"Have you found a remedy, in that case?" Dumbledore addressed Smart-Snape.

"Not yet," he admitted. "But we can put our situation to the advantage, search several books at once with many pairs of eyes searching, brew several possible antidotes at once with many pairs of hands working--"

"You've forgotten that our magic has been diluted," pointed out Stickler-Snape. "We may all need to work on an antidote together if it is to be potent enough."

"Then you'll never succeed," gloated Vengeful-Snape. "Because I for one will not be part of it, and you can bet your last Sickle that the other one won't want to, either. The freedom we enjoy without the likes of him --" He thrust his prominent nose in the direction of Insecure-Snape. "Never having to worry about what others think, never being afraid of possible consequences. I feel that I've been given a whole new lease on life!" A triumphant yet menacing gleam shone in his eye.

Dumbledore sighed. "I can understand you only too well. I, too, have wished at times to be freed of certain inhibitions; been embarrassed by my own weaknesses. But, as you say, without all those facets of our personality, we are less than a whole person. How much better it is to have one's soul intact, with all of its very human frailties and flaws; only thus are we strong. Without those, we would be in danger of becoming... inhuman." He shrugged and gave those present a sad little smile.

Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. She wasn't entirely sure what the Headmaster was speaking of, but the truth of it spoke to some deep, primal part of her.

"But enough philosophizing," Dumbledore said. "I freely admit that I am, at present, at a loss as to what to do for you. I fear it will take quite a bit longer than you predict to find a suitable solution. It will be more complicated than simply mixing up a potion; in fact, I am not at all convinced that another potion is the way to go. But I will leave that up to you."

Hermione gaped at him. He wasn't going to do anything? And he had no ideas? What kind of a super-wizard was he?

Snapes seemed a bit taken aback, as well, but took it in stride. "I will of course keep you updated on our progress," Dutiful-Snape informed him.

"Splendid," Dumbledore said, satisfied, before his demeanor turned earnest. "In the meantime, however, I am afraid I will have to ask that you voluntarily restrict your movements."

"Absolutely," said Dutiful-Snape.

"I'm glad you mentioned it," added Self-Preserving Snape.

"You can't be serious," said Vengeful-Snape with a sneer.

"Oh, but I am," replied Dumbledore calmly. "It is, after all, for your own protection."

"You're always trying to find a way to control me," Vengeful-Snape snarled, jumping up from his seat and leaning threateningly across the desk. "I'd like to see you try and tell me what to do without that wand of yours!"

"Severus!" Dutiful-Snape exclaimed, shocked, putting a hand on his arm and pulling him back. "He is our employer."

Vengeful-Snape turned on the rest of the Severi with a nasty look in his eye. "Only because some of you came crawling to him to save your sorry skins!"

"Yours, too, don't forget," Self-Preserving Snape reminded him curtly.

"Yes, well, I can see you have quite a lot to discuss amongst yourselves," Professor Dumbledore interrupted blandly. "It is getting quite late, and I'm sure you'll want to get started on your research straightaway." He stood, indicating that the interview was over.

The plural professor stood as well. Hermione found herself suddenly dwarfed by a roomful of scowling Snapes, several of whom were directing their baleful gazes in her direction. She was starting to feel a bit apprehensive (the word 'Obliviate' having been tossed about once too often in the past hour for her taste), when a sharp rap sounded on the office door.

The Snapes all exchanged looks of alarm, but the Headmaster merely flicked his wand in the direction of the door, causing the wood to become transparent in the shape of a circular porthole, through which the face of a very grim Minerva McGonagall was visible, accompanied by an extremely displeased-looking Severus.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled softly and called out, "Enter!"

"Albus, I really must protest in the strongest of terms!" began McGonagall as soon as she had opened the door. She was breathless with indignation. "Professor Snape has--" She stopped short at the sight before her, and drew her breath in sharply.

"Ah, there you are, Severus," Professor Dumbledore greeted the last Snape, extending his arm in a welcoming gesture. "Come in, come in. We were wondering where you had gotten off to."

The tenth Snape stalked in, and Hermione cringed at the sight of him. This, then, was truly the sadistic one. His bearing was tense, poised for a confrontation, and his visage was marred by the cruel calculation with which he surveyed his surroundings.

"What in the world...?" McGonagall ventured, her mouth dropping open in astonishment.

"Close the door behind you, Minerva, would you?" Dumbledore reminded her. "Thank you. It seems there was a slight mishap with a potion," he went on by way of explanation, "but Severus here has promised me that he will resolve things as soon as possible."

The latest Snape glared at Hermione. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable Mudblood," he snapped.

Hermione stirred indignantly. Vengeful-Snape smirked.

"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore admonished him. "I hardly think one's heritage is sufficient reason to award or remove points. Twenty points _to_ Gryffindor," he corrected.

"He's been doing it all day!" Professor McGonagall reported indignantly, recovering her composure somewhat. "I've held my tongue as long as I could, but I had to put my foot down when he stood in front of the Fat Lady's portrait this evening and made all my Gryffindors kiss his boots before he would let them pass." Her eyes shot daggers at Sadistic-Snape. "I had two-score of them clamoring for redress in my office!"

Sadistic-Snape chuckled to himself, and Vengeful-Snape praised him, "Very good, Severus! Just desserts for all the grief those half-wits put us through."

Dumbledore ignored the two of them and commiserated, "I can see how that would have been a trying situation, Minerva. I am grateful that you were able to maintain your calm. Now, I would be most obliged if you would escort Professor Snape here--" He looked over his half-moon glasses at the Severuses standing around. "This is all of you, is it not?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Dutiful-Snape responded immediately.

Professor Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. "Yes, fine, as I was saying, Minerva, if you would escort Professor Snape to his quarters, make sure no-one gets lost..."

"Headmaster, I protest," Proud-Snape interrupted indignantly. "We do not need a chaperone to our own quarters."

"We will keep a close watch on them, you can be sure of that," the Snape in the Seville Row suit said in a no-nonsense manner.

"I am sure you will," Dumbledore replied, "but I am afraid that I will have to insist. Minerva, if you would?"

"Certainly," she answered in a clipped tone, and stood with her hands clasped before her, giving the milling Snapes a pointed look and nodding toward the door. "After you, gentlemen."

Hermione watched as, with much grumbling, the ten dark professors filed past her, with Professor McGonagall bringing up the rear. Finally, she was left alone and feeling a little deflated sitting there on her chair. She turned to Professor Dumbledore, but he was puttering about with some of his instruments, his back to her. She cleared her throat politely. "Excuse me...sir?"

The Headmaster turned around, a look of slight surprise on his face. "Miss Granger, are you still here? Evidently," he answered his own question, before asking courteously, "Was there anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Good, then I wish you a pleasant evening. You may return to your common room." He went back to the puffing silver whirligig.

Hermione stood up somewhat uneasily. She still had so many questions! "Sir...?"

He did not turn around. "Hm?"

"May I say anything to the others about what went on tonight?"

"Follow your instincts, Miss Granger," he called over his shoulder in his wavery, cheery voice, "follow your instincts!"

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Her instincts told her not to say anything about Professor Snape's predicament. For one thing, she reckoned that, if it were meant to be public knowledge, either Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall would make an announcement the next morning at breakfast, and neither of them did. For another, she rather enjoyed having knowledge of a magical mystery that none of the other students (and especially Harry) knew anything of. Harry had done his own share of keeping secrets from them, and she felt that now she could pay him back. The fact that he didn't know she was withholding something from him did nothing do diminish her self-satisfaction.

And the third reason why she kept the entire incident to herself was that she knew Snape wouldn't want her to tell, and she had an inexplicable inclination to be respectful of that wish. Maybe it was just because she was feeling sorry for poor Insecure-Snape, and she knew what he would be in for if word got out, even if only to Harry (and, by extension, Ron) about him.

Although, Harry seemed more than preoccupied with his Pensieve sessions with Dumbledore, and Ron with his groping sessions with Lavender. Hermione caught herself from time to time watching the two of them out of the corner of her eye in morbid fascination. How could anyone find it pleasurable to have someone else's tongue jammed into their mouth? She'd only ever touched tongues with a little girl she used to play with when they were about seven, just to see what it felt like, and they had both agreed it was very icky. She couldn't imagine the sensation would have improved any by now.

The hands, though, that she could see. Ron's large Keeper hands were indeed exciting, strong and with long fingers, and she knew from personal experience how nice it was to be touched in certain places with knowledgeable fingers. Mostly her own fingers, to be sure, but she wouldn't be averse to someone else's fingers doing the same thing. In fact, the idea was more than a little titillating, and she adjusted herself demurely in her seat. Remembering how Viktor had held her so firmly yet carefully when they had danced at the Yule Ball two years previously still gave her a special thrill. To say nothing of his gentle, casual-yet-practiced caresses during their strolls on the grounds. Hermione sighed involuntarily, then looked around the common room quickly to see if anyone had noticed, but no one was paying attention to her behind her pile of books.

No one was paying any attention to Ron and Lavender, either, come to that, as they groaned and slobbered all over each other; they had become as accepted as one of the pieces of furniture. In fact, the couch on the east wall was inoffically known as "the love nest" and was studiously avoided by most, especially those with particularly fastidious natures.

Hermione found, however, that the atmosphere was a bit too cloying for her at the moment, and made a stealthy exit, balancing her books in a levitating stack before her on the way down to the library. As she walked, she resumed her thoughts about the Defense teacher. Snape.

Hermione had assumed that he would make good on his vow to fix everything up in no time with a cleverly-brewed potion, but over the past couple of days, her keen powers of observation told her that this was not the case. The Snape who showed up to teach their class was certainly competent, but he was straightforward and dull. None of the dry wit, quick retorts, or surprising insights that she had come to expect from him. Hermione had noticed that he was back to baiting Gryffindors and favoring Slytherins, but it didn't seem that his heart was really in it; he did it more as a matter of rote, and she supposed it was his duty, as Head of Slytherin House, to behave in that manner. (She had already figured out that the personality in charge of their classes was Dutiful-Snape, and she was grateful for small favours; it would have been possible for Vengeful-Snape, or even Sadistic-Snape, to have bullied his way into the position.)

Hermione knew better than to mention this to any of the other students, on the grounds that, A, they would not have noticed anything themselves, and, B, they would only give her funny looks, as Harry and Ron had when she'd mentioned the unusual clothing. Regarding the clothing, it seemed that a visit had been paid to Madam Malkin after all, or at least Dutiful-Snape had been deemed worthy of getting the pick of the wardrobe, since his outfit was back to what Hermione was used to seeing as Professor Snape's usual attire.

In the library, she deposited three books that she was finished with with Madam Pince, and took in return four more that had arrived for her through Inter-Library Loan, then herded her stack toward her favorite spot in Restricted Section, flapping her special permission form superciliously in the sour-faced librarian's direction.

Two of the new books she'd requested were related to N.E.W.T. courses, and a third was just something that had sounded interesting (_Wand Woods: A Xylologic Study_). The fourth, however, was the one she was most interested in at the moment, and she let the rest of her books tumble down onto the desk as she used a charm to tease open the brittle codex: _Anima Re_.

It was a Medieval text, copied however from a centuries-older original. She'd come across the title several times now in her reading on the nature of the soul, but she'd always assumed the references were to a donnish nineteenth-century work with the same title. Yesterday, however, she'd been reading another book containing a similar reference, and realized like a bolt out of the blue that the book in her hands had been written in the 1600s, meaning that there must have been another, earlier, _Anima Re_. And here it was. Eagerly she devoured the first few pages, written in fairly straightforward Latin, looking for any mentions of 'splitting', but as far as she could tell, it was a lot of Christian-tinged warnings about the devil and stealing souls.

Slightly disappointed, she slumped back and rolled her head around to stretch her neck and back muscles. As she did, she noticed out of the corner of her eye a scrap of black material lying on the floor, just on the far side of the last bookcase. Thinking that someone had left a robe or other article of clothing lying there, she went to retrieve it, only to realize when she got there that someone was still wearing it.

"Professor Snape!" she exclaimed, snatching her hand back.

He was sitting on the stone floor, his back against the bookcase, and sleeping. At the sound of Hermione's voice, however, he started awake and looked around, alarmed.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to wake you," she apologized.

Snape hurriedly stood up and pulled his robe around his body, as if it would give him some protection. It fit him now, but Hermione could tell this was the insecure one.

Hermione looked around quickly to see if anyone had seen him, but they were alone. "What are you doing here," she hissed at him urgently. "You're not supposed to be out." She would never have spoken that way to any of the other Snapes, but this one seemed more like a child than an authority figure to her.

He looked at her now with the beginnings of fear in his eyes. "I know," he whispered back. "But I've nowhere else to go."

"What about your quarters? Don't tell me the others kicked you out again?"

He nodded dolefully, and his lip began to tremble. "They had a terrible row over it; the majority of them thought I should stay, but the vengeful one and that awful sadistic one said they'd kill me if I did. At least the proud one made sure I was dressed properly this time."

"Well, we can't have this," Hermione said firmly. "You're one of them, and they have to take you back."

"They won't, believe me. There's no reasoning with them."

"The Headmaster will make sure they do. Come on." She took a step back, indicating that he should follow her.

"Oh, no!" he exclaimed, horrified. "We can't go to him. That would only make things worse. I... I know I'm a burden for the others, and it's for the best that they're rid of me. I'm perfectly content here, really." He pulled his robe even more tightly around his body.

"Mm-hm," muttered Hermione, not really believing what he said. The best thing, of course, would be to reverse the split; then the other aspects of Snape's personality would just have to deal with their insecurities, rather than resorting to this cruelty.

"Have they made any progress on the potion?" she asked.

"What potion?"

"They're supposed to be researching a potion to fix this--" She gestured at him.

"I don't really know," he admitted. "It seemed they were spending more time arguing than anything else, to tell you the truth. But maybe now that I'm gone, they're able to get something done."

"Maybe..." she said doubtfully, just as the gong sounded, warning that there were fifteen minutes left before curfew. "Hey, I have an idea," she said suddenly. "Since you're here anyway, you could look through some of these books. I have the feeling there's going to be something here that will help you." She eagerly plucked at the sleeve of his robe and pulled him over to the table where her books were piled.

He glanced at the titles and objected, "But none of these are about potions."

"Of course not, Professor Dumbledore said the solution wasn't going to be a potion, anyway," she said excitedly. "I think we need to go for a curse-reversal, myself. But I haven't found anything concrete. Look, I'll take these, and you can start looking through the stacks here tonight."

"I don't know..." he said hesitantly. "I'm not exactly sure what to look for; I'll probably miss it even if I do see it. I'm not the smart one..."

"Pish-posh," Hermione dismissed his objections. "All you need to do is look for any mention of splitting or reuniting a split soul or anything like that, and just set those books aside, and I'll look through them tomorrow after lessons. All right?"

"I'm sure I can't do it," Snape said, almost whining. "Someone will see me and I'll get in trouble."

"You're a professor here, remember that," she admonished him. "You have no curfew, you can roam the halls and classrooms to your heart's content. And if you see Mrs Norris, just hiss at her. She hates that!" Hermione grinned conspiratorially. "You'll see, we'll show them who the smart one is!" she said as she busily packed up the books to take with her.

"All right," he said in an uncertain manner.

"Good! Good-night then, and good hunting!" She waved at the drooping-shouldered, forlorn figure and marched out, her head already filled with images of how she would be lauded for solving this intractable problem.


	5. Chapter 5: Birds, Bees, and Bonds

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter Five**

**-- Birds, Bees, and Bonds --**

Hermione could hardly sleep that night, so excited was she. She sat up until two in the morning reading _Anima Re_, finally dozing off over a particularly dense attempt at refuting the substantial nature of the soul. She awoke to the sounds of her dorm-mates clumsily performing their morning ablutions, and took startled note of the fact that she had been using the valuable codex as a pillow. A quick flattening charm took care of the creased pages; the same enchantment would have worked wonders on her bedhead, had she been one to be concerned about her looks. But, as she wasn't, she appeared to breakfast in her usual windblown state, drawing scarecely a glance from the boys.

Being eager as all get-out to see what Snape had come up with, she meant to just grab a piece of toast and dash up to the library before the first period, but no sooner had she sat down than Harry pulled something out of his school bag.

"Hey, Hermione," he said around a mouthful of toast. "Could you look over my Charms essay for me?" He shoved a roll of parchment at her without even waiting for an answer. "I would've asked you last night, but I couldn't find you."

Hermione pursed her lips, but unrolled the essay nevertheless and began to read through it. She meant to just give it a quick once-over, but she had only gotten as far as the third sentence when she began tutting and shaking her head.

"It's not 'impenetrable', it's 'imperturbable'. And here, you need to start a new paragraph." She made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat and twisted the Quing off her finger, causing it to turn into a quill. Sliding the breakfast dishes aside, and with a great martyr's sigh, she set to work correcting Harry's essay for him.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

What with one thing and another, it wasn't until late that afternoon that Hermione was able to get to the library. She had worked herself up into quite a state of anticipation by then, and was actually looking forward to seeing Professor Snape. She stopped short in the corridor just outside of the library, causing a Ravenclaw first-year to bump into her and fall sprawling to the floor, losing the entire contents of her book-bag. What had she just thought? She was...looking forward to seeing...Professor _Snape_? Distractedly, she stepped over the eleven-year-old's books, which were now scattered all over, and entered the library in a bit of a muddle.

When had her complete aversion to everything Snape turned into anticipation? She shook her head. No, she told herself firmly. It wasn't Snape she was looking forward to seeing. It was the results of his research. And anyway, it wasn't _really_ Professor Snape. It was a pathetic shadow of him. Yes. That was how it was.

Thus reassured, she made her way directly to the Restricted Section, and was more than a little disappointed to see that it was empty, but for the Head Boy, Eddie Carmichael, who didn't even look up from the tome he was engrossed in when she walked past.

She stood there amidst the stacks, hands on her hips and brow furrowed. Now where could he have gotten off to? The possibilities were limited, for all that Hogwarts Castle was full of hidden rooms and passages.

"Sorry, did you want something?" Carmichael finally took notice of Hermione standing next to him.

Hermione looked down at him with a little frown. "You haven't seen Professor Snape by any chance, have you?"

A look of surprise crossed Carmichael's face. "Snape? What do you want him for?"

"Never you mind," Hermione said crossly. "Just tell me if he's been here."

"Yeah, he was, matter of fact," Carmichael admitted. "Pince came and got him though, something about having caught some Slytherins defacing books." He snickered. "The look on his face... You'd've thought she meant him!"

"Hmph," Hermione replied. She could just imagine. Her attention was now drawn to the books on the table beside Eddie; she saw that some of them were the ones she'd asked Snape to look through.

"Are these his books?" she asked, pointing at the pile.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "They were already here when I came. They might be. He wasn't reading them, though. Wasn't doing much of anything, really. Just standing around. You know. How he does. Spooking the crap out of ya."

"Mm-hm," Hermione agreed vaguely, reaching over to shuffle through the books. There were the ones she'd recommended, and some more besides. _'The Silver Cord'_ ... _'Astral Projection'_ ... Ooh, interesting idea, although that went more in the direction of disembodied souls, and in this case, they had rather too many bodies for one soul than too few ... Wait, what was that one? _'Compares Animae' _... _'Soul Mates'_? She flipped it open and frowned. This was a late Renaissance text on Bonding! The practice had been outlawed in the 1800s, as it was all too often abused as a means of exerting control over spouses. _Pfft_, Hermione thought dismissively. Snape was certainly barking up the wrong tree with that one, aside from the title, of course. She sighed. He really was not the smart one. She was about to close the book when the word "coitus" popped out at her from the Table of Contents. Aware that Carmichael was still watching her with mild interest, she slammed the book shut.

"I'll just take these with me, then," she said matter-of-factly, gathering up several of the books at random, making sure however to include the bonding text.

"Those aren't allowed out of the Restricted Section," Carmichael protested.

"They're for a project of Professor Snape's," Hermione quickly rejoined, giving Eddie a hard look. "He _told_ me to come and collect them for him."

He backed off. "Oh, right. You might've said so at the start. Here, don't you need these as well?" He picked up two more from among the ones that Hermione had left on the table and helf them out to her.

"No, no, these are the only ones he wanted," she said, flashing him a brief smile and hefting the six or so books in her arms. "You can put the others back. Or leave them there. Whatever. Gotta go. Bye!" And with that, she hurried away, leaving a somewhat perplexed Head Boy behind.

She headed, however, not for the dungeons and Professor Snape's quarters, but for Gryffindor Tower and the privacy of her four-poster. She had developed a sudden and burning interest in the marital practices of the early seventeenth century.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The next morning saw Hermione laggard to arise; still in a semi-dream state and heavily under the influence of the chapter she had spent the previous evening perusing, her thoughts were full of images of the sort that made her extremely grateful that she would not be subjected to the Occlumency lessons which Harry had had to endure in the previous year. If Professor Snape were to see some of the things which she was thinking...! She was quite embarrassed simply by the idea. Wouldn't he be shocked to know that she thought about such things! Why, she was shocked, herself.

Hastily shoving those naughty tidbits to a secret corner of her mind and firmly turning the key on them, she berated herself severely for having let herself get distracted from the most urgent problem at hand: re-uniting Professor Snape with himself. Himselves. Whatever. And that had nothing whatsoever to do with entering gardens, plucking rose-buds, sheathing swords, and all the other poetic expressions used to describe the means by which the magical bond of co-dependency was enforced and maintained.

It was really quite frightening, when one thought of it, how the old bond magic worked. In effect, the enchantment would take two healthy, independently living individuals, and create a symbiosis between them much like that between a flowering plant and its pollinator. Ah, pollination... Yes, erm, very much so. But back to the spell. In the best case, a mutualistic relationship would evolve in which both partners would benefit. More often than not, however, it turned out to be a case of parasitism, if not out-and-out competition.

Even in the most optimistic outcome, one became completely dependent upon the partner for one's sense of self. It didn't take a genius to see how it was used to subjugate the weaker partner to the stronger one, virtually wiping out an individual's separate self, such that they lived only to feed the other's ego. It was almost like taking two separate beings and reducing them to one. Such a thing might sound romantic to some, but Hermione saw clearly the darker implications and was very much put off by the idea. If it hadn't been outlawed already, she might very well have-- Hold on. Back up. One plus one equals ... one?

With trembling hands, she dressed herself blindly, tossing the first school robe she laid her hands on over a rumpled uniform, and dashed down to the library.

When she got there, the doors weren't unlocked yet, and she hopped from one foot to the other in impatience until Madam Pince deigned to allow her entrance at the stroke of eight.

With a fleeting "good morning" to the librarian (returned with little more than a snort), Hermione dashed toward the Restricted Section, hoping with trepidation that the sallow-skinned wizard would be there. Her heart in her throat (from the running, of course), she scanned the stacks and experienced a plummeting disappointment upon finding them empty.

"Miss Granger!" Madam Pince reprimanded her as she approached with quick, mincing steps. "Might I remind you that this is a library, and not a race track. You may have the right to enter the Restricted Section, but only with due respect to the books and the powerful magics which they contain." She pressed her lips together and glared disapprovingly.

"Yes, Ma'am," Hermione agreed, then continued eagerly in the same breath, "Have you seen Professor Snape? I thought he would be here."

Madam Pince raised her penciled eyebrows. "I don't see how he could have gotten here ahead of you; you all but ran me over in your haste to get in just now."

"Oh, well, I thought he-- I mean, doesn't he sometimes come in here after hours? To work?" she asked in what she thought was an innocent manner.

Madam Pince seemed to become even more disapproving. "Indeed he has, but I have had to simply put my foot down. I cannot allow my library to become an extension of staff members' offices, or students' common rooms" --she glared with redoubled emphasis at Hermione-- "for that matter. The regular hours are more than generous, and should he feel the need to do continued reading or study beyond that, the staff lending privileges are--"

"Right, thank you," Hermione spoke right over her, no longer paying attention to the librarian's rant.

Her stomach now growling in earnest, Hermione wandered down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Hermione positively fidgeted through the Defense lesson, drawing looks of surprise from even the Slytherins when she testily responded, "Oh, who cares," to a direct question posed by the current incarnation of their professor. Duly tucking away the five point deduction, Hermione waited out the remaining agonizing twenty minutes of class with increasing impatience, until finally, freed by the gong, she elbowed her way to the front of the room to confront Dutiful-Snape.

"Professor Snape?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her in the manner which, prior to the Split, would have made any student valuing their life decide on the spot that the matter they wished to discuss was not so urgent after all, but somehow, it didn't have the same effect now. Hermione looked around to make sure that the last student had left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and then leaned forward and whispered, "I need to talk to Professor Snape."

Snape scowled (again, without quite the same quailing effect as previously) and said stiffly, "It appears that you are doing so."

Hermione shook her head. "No, not you. The other one. The... quiet one." She raised her eyebrows meaningfully, hoping that he would catch her drift.

He narrowed his eyes at her, failing completely to look intimidating. "Any business you have with him can be discussed with me. I am, after all, he."

Hermione considered this. While technically true, since the Split the various personalities had in fact been leading separate lives, and Insecure-Snape was the only one who knew about her little side project. Involving Dutiful-Snape now would mean a lot of explanations, and she wasn't sure how he would react anyway. He might just dismiss the whole thing, or on the other hand want to take all the credit himself. No, it was best to stick to Insecure-Snape, at least for the time being. But first she had to get around the dutiful one.

"Well, Professor," Hermione began, trying to think fast on her feet, "I've started reviewing for my N.E.W.T.s, and I have a few questions on counter-curses, curse breaking, Dementors, vampires, the Unforgivables, the use of Stasis and Shield charms, blocking jinxes, blood magic, werewolves, and human sacrifice." She finished this list quite out of breath.

Dutiful-Snape consulted the magical clock on the wall, which was ticking relentlessly toward _'You're Late'_, and then looked arrogantly down his hooked nose at her. "I'm afraid I haven't time to deal with your piddling questions, which have undoubtedly already been answered in the readings and lectures you have been assigned. You would do well to take better notes and avoid gossiping with Potter and your other leech-like housemates."

The snipe rolled right off Hermione. She knew he was just answering in the way he felt obligated to, and she could tell there was no real emotion behind the words. Oddly, though, instead of feeling good about that, she was hit by the loss of personality which the man had suffered. She wondered how he felt about the whole thing.

"You're absolutely right, Professor," she agreed with artfully downcast eyes, "and that's why I didn't want to bother you with it. But the other Professor Snape, you know which one, well, he's just sitting around without much to do, isn't he, and I thought it would be a useful way to spend his time, if he could explain some things to me." She half expected Snape to feel duty-bound to defend his insecure side, but her gamble on his dislike of the same being stronger paid off.

"Hrmph," he grunted in grudging agreement. "He _should_ be doing more to pull his own weight around here. Lord knows there's more than enough work for all of us." He sniffed derisively. "Very well. I believe you will find him in dungeon five. And do tell him that I sent you," he added with a sour smirk.

"Thank you, Professor." Hermione turned to go, hesitated, and then turned back and added, "Oh, and Sir? I do hope you get yourself back together. It just isn't the same without-- Well, without the rest of you." She quickly scurried out before the Defense instructor could respond.

The man in question, for his part, didn't think twice about the remark, but with a wave of his wand cleared his desk of the sixth-year materials and stood stiffly behind the desk, carefully schooled scowl in place, as the second-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws entered. His mind was already on the lesson.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"Miss Granger. What a pleasant surprise." Professor Dumbledore ushered Hermione into his office with a sweeping motion of his left hand. "Do come in. And I see you've brought Professor Snape with you. How charming." He smiled mildly at the pair of them: the determined, energetic sixth-year pulling the dark, skulking Potions master (despite that year's change in Snape's job title, Dumbledore could never think of the man as anything other than the Potions master; and anyway, he wouldn't hold the position longer than a year) by the sleeve.

Once everyone had found a seating arrangement to their satisfaction and tea and sweets had been offered and declined, Hermione, who could no longer contain herself, burst out, "I have an idea!"

Dumbledore cocked his hoary head in interest. "Do tell," he encouraged her politely.

"A bond," she announced, beaming triumphantly.

Dumbledore blinked thoughtfully, not omitting to notice that Snape (yes, he knew it was Insecure-Snape), sitting slumped down in his chair, was looking utterly miserable, and then said, "Please continue."

"A bond! Copula animae! The old marriage bond!" Hermione was practically drooling in her eagerness to get the words out. "It would create an interdependence at the level of the soul, intermeshing their essences and causing them to merge because the amplitudes will be added together; we wouldn't have to worry about the problem of destructive interference which as often observed in the past, because Professor Snape's soul is at the same wavelength as himself. Do you see? Here--" She drew a roll of parchment out of her sleeve and passed it to the Headmaster. "You can see the Arithmancy is really very basic, only no one's ever tried to apply it to the _same_ soul before."

Professor Dumbledore unrolled the scroll and perused it briefly, then looked at Hermione over his half-moon glasses. "Miss Granger, I congratulate you. It looks very much as if you have hit upon a possible solution. I assume, however, from the look on your face, Severus, that you do not agree?"

Snape's chest seemed to cave further in on itself. "I don't know," he mumbled forlornly. "It doesn't matter. It might work for the rest of them, but they won't want to have me."

"We shall have to find a way to convince them, then," Professor Dumbledore said firmly. "Events in other areas are coming ever more inexorably to a head, and I can't say that I wouldn't be happy to have you all whole and complete again at the earliest possible point in time. We will convene this evening at eight o'clock." He stood and looked decisively down at Snape. "And I will personally see to it that all of your soul counterparts are present."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

_Author's Note: I don't know: was it ever stated who the Head Boy was in the Trio's sixth year? If so, someone tell me and I'll fix that point. Eddie Carmichael earned nine Os on his OWLs, so I thought he was rather Head Boy material._

_I made up the Quing. It's a ring that automatically transfigures itself into a quill when removed from the finger. It's not really necessary for the story or anything, I just thought it was a cute idea. Thanks for your reviews!_


	6. Chapter 6: My Name is Bond

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter Six**

**-- My Name is Bond --**

"No, no, and for the third time, no!" Proud-Snape attempted to loom over Smart-Snape in an intimidating manner, but as they were exactly the same height, failed.

"If you would just look at these calculations--" Smart-Snape began, his irritation increasing.

Proud-Snape batted the parchment away. "I cannot believe that you would stoop to consider the work of a Muggleborn. A _student_, for God's sake!" His face was contorted with disgust.

Smart-Snape drew himself up and sniffed haughtily. "They are my own calculations, I'll have you know." He smoothed the scroll down on the desk. "And the _student_" --he also said it with contempt-- "only brought the news of it to Albus. It was..." He swallowed, and continued somewhat unwillingly, "It was _he_ who actually found the spell." He found a long, black hair on the sleeve of his robe and plucked it off, studiously avoiding looking in the direction of Insecure-Snape, who was standing stiffly by the door, trying to blend into the stonework.

"Well, I'm all for it," Dutiful-Snape said briskly. "We're very inefficient in this state, and it's high time that we get on with the duties at hand, rather than wasting any more time thumbing through dusty old books or whatever it is some of you have been doing. And we must do something to get _you_ under control." He glared at Sadistic-Snape, who merely smirked and shook his head.

"Oh, no. You're not getting me in on any cock-and-bull scheme to get back in the same body with the likes of you. I am quite enjoying my freedom to act out all of our deepest fantasies. Be honest, now, all of you. Wouldn't you give your wand hand to be able to hold Longbottom's head under in a vat of Shrinking Solution? Or force Jiggers to pose naked in his display window, the thieving rat?"

Vengeful-Snape raised an admiring eyebrow. "You didn't?" he said hopefully.

Sadistic-Snape chortled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I did, and I did."

"So it was you who contaminated the Shrinking Solution!" Dutiful-Snape exclaimed in an accusatory manner. "Did you know that I had prepared that to demonstrate to the third years? Only the left side of the test rat shrank. It looked very unprofessional. And before the Gryffindor-Slytherin class, no less. I was barely able to cover without looking a complete fool." He gave Sadistic-Snape a dirty look, which only made the latter leer more broadly.

"This is exactly what I mean!" Self-Preserving Snape interjected. "We cannot afford to work at cross-purposes any longer. Eventually one of you is going to slip up and land the whole lot of us in Azkaban. Or St. Mungo's!"

Several of the Snapes snuck glances at their sadistic counterpart. Truth be told, most of them were afraid of him. There was a rumour going 'round that he was planning on killing as many of the rest of them as he could manage, in order to put an end to the re-unification talk once and for all.

Iron-Will-Snape stood and smoothed his robes. "The time has come for a decision, and it seems that I shall have to be the one to make it. We are all going to proceed to the Headmaster's office, and inform him that we will attempt the Bonding." He looked around the room, his hard stare brooking no contradiction.

"Thank you," Smart-Snape stated, with some relief. "It is the only logical course of action at this point. There is no danger, I assure you. I have checked the figures several times." He rolled up the scroll upon which he had worked out his calculations and tapped it twice on the table-top.

Lying-Snape sighed. "I can't say that I'm exactly looking forward to getting back together with all of you, but some of you are such pathetically incompetent liars that I don't really see that I have a choice." He gave Dutiful-Snape a pointed look.

Several others also voiced their agreement to the plan, but just when it seemed that a general consensus had been reached, one voice brought a sudden halt to the discussion. "Over my dead body!"

Nine black heads turned toward the speaker: Sadistic-Snape. There was a momentary silence, then a cold voice spoke: "That can be arranged."

Nine black heads turned again to see Dutiful-Snape holding the wand which had been entrusted to him for teaching purposes, now pointing steadily at Sadistic-Snape.

Sadistic-Snape laughed. "Is that supposed to be some sort of threat? You couldn't hex a pimple onto the face of a hormonal teenager with your reduced magical ability, let alone cast the Killing Curse."

Iron-Will Snape immediately stepped to Dutiful-Snape's side and grasped the wand as well, followed in quick succession by Self-Preserving Snape, Stickler-Snape, Smart-Snape, Proud-Snape, and Lying-Snape, leaving only Vengeful-Snape and Insecure-Snape undecided.

Iron-Will now gave Sadistic-Snape a triumphant look. "You could be right about the Killing Curse, but I wager we might be able to pull off a Sectumsempra. What do you think? After all, you had a large hand in its invention. How much power do you think we'll need?"

"You'll regret this," Sadistic-Snape growled. "All of you. I don't need a wand to make your lives a living hell."

"Get up," Iron-Will Snape snapped. "You, too," he added, nodding at Vengeful-Snape, who had watched the action with a mildly interested expression. Vengeful-Snape seemed to consider things for a moment, then stood.

"As you wish," he acquiesced. "I heartily agree with Severus: the rest of you will benefit immeasurably from my input. It's time to put an end to doing things simply for the sake of duty or self-preservation. Where's the fun in that?" He allowed a cold smile to turn up the corners of his mouth.

"All right, then," Iron-Will Snape agreed with satisfaction, even as Smart-Snape eyed Vengeful-Snape suspiciously. "Let us be off. Severus, Severus, if you would be good enough to escort our good friend Severus here." Immediately, Dutiful-Snape and Stickler-Snape detached themselves from the group and hauled Sadistic-Snape bodily out of his chair, frog-marching him out the hidden passageway that would lead them to the Headmaster's office.

The rest of them relinquished their hold on the wand as well, and followed, Iron-Will Snape grabbing Insecure-Snape to bring up the rear.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Hermione could barely control her excitement. In fact, she couldn't control it. In fiddling with her wand, she'd inadvertently sent a Roman candle out it, which had shot straight into the Headmaster's beard. Luckily, it had only been a small, purple one that had caused a minimal amount of singeing. However, the injured professor had given her a quailing look, and she had carefully stuffed the offending piece of wood into her sock. Not that she'd be needing her wand. She was only here as an observer. A witness, if one might apply wedding terminology to what was about to occur. For Hermione, along with Minerva McGonagall, were present to witness the Bonding of Snape in a rather unholy sort of matrimony. He of the charred whiskers was officiating.

"Now then," began Dumbledore, once Professor Snape was arranged in a semi-circle before him. "Who are we doing first?" He looked expectantly around at the glowering professors.

There was quite a bit of eye shifting and foot scuffing, but pretty soon two of the Snapes took a smart step forward. Hermione gasped. The mean one and... the other mean one! She couldn't help checking Insecure-Snape's reaction. He looked properly horrified.

"You two?" Dumbledore looked mildly surprised. "I must admit, I hadn't pegged either of you as a joiner, but then potions mishaps make strange bedfellows, eh, Minerva?" He looked over at the Transfiguration professor with a waggish glint in his eye, which was returned with a hard stare. Dumbledore chuckled and directed an explanation at Hermione: "Inside joke."

"Really, Albus," McGonagall hissed impatiently. "I think we should get on with this. There are ten of them, after all."

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "quite right you are. Well, then. Step over here... Miss Granger, if you would stand just so..." Hermione took up her position at the third point of the triangle defined by herself, the Headmaster, and Professor McGonagall, with the two Snapes in the middle. "Yes, good," commented Dumbledore approvingly. "And now, if the two of you would join hands..."

Sadistic-Snape and Vengeful-Snape, facing each other, held out their right hands and clasped them, then crossed over their left hands and clasped them as well. A thrilling shiver ran down Hermione's spine at the look of pure malicious intent that passed between the two of them. It looked almost -- but not quite -- as frightening as the look she had seen Fred and George give each other the night before their big exit from the school the previous year.

Seemingly oblivious to any ulterior motives which the Snapes before him might have, the Headmaster assumed an attitude of solemn concentration.

"Severus Snape..." he began, holding his wand over the Snapes' crossed hands. "Is it your will to Bind your soul to that of Severus Snape?"

"It is," Sadistic-Snape answered with a sneer. A blue spark emitted from Dumbledore's wand and fell on the clasped hands, where it quickly faded.

Dumbledore turned his head to the other Snape. "Severus Snape... Is it your will to Bind your soul to that of Severus Snape?"

"It is," said Vengeful-Snape, and the corners of his mouth curled up in what Hermione regarded as an utterly repulsive manner. Another blue spark dropped from the end of Dumbledore's wand, this time sparkling for a moment before seeming to melt into the skin of the other Snape's hand.

Dumbledore tapped each of the four hands before him in succession while reciting the words: "_Anima comparationis, copulata aeterna_." Each spot touched by the wand glowed blue, and this time, the colour did not fade, but spread over the surface of each hand until they were encased in a pleasant luminescence.

"Minerva, Miss Granger, if you please?" Dumbledore prompted.

"So witnessed," stated McGonagall, crossing her wand over Dumbledore's. All eyes turned to Hermione.

Her stomach was in knots. She was actually involved in casting an ancient, illegal spell! _'So witnessed, so witnessed,'_ she thought to herself. _'That's all I have to say. Just don't screw it up!'_ Trying to control her trembling, she reached out... only to realize that her wand was still stuffed down her sock. Hotly embarrassed, she bent down, inadvertently bumping her head into Snape's elbow -- she hoped fervently that it wasn't the _really_ mean one -- and fumbled out her wand. Then, quite breathlessly, she extended her arm and crossed her wand over the other two, forming a six-pointed star.

"So witnessed," she said as firmly as she could, although it came out a little squeaky and more loudly than she had intended.

There was no visible reaction to her words, but Dumbledore withdrew his wand and looked inquiringly from one Snape to the other. "Everything in order, Severus?"

The two Snapes released their hands, and the glow dissolved. "Perfectly," one of them responded.

Hermione looked worriedly at Professor Dumbledore, then at Professor McGonagall. It hadn't worked. There were still two of them. She didn't know what she'd expected... one of them to simply fade away, or to go up in a puff of smoke. But there they still were: the one with that cruel sneer, and the other one, who was also looking quite wicked. However, none of the professors present seemed much concerned.

Dumbledore smiled in satisfaction. "Right, then, off the two of you go." He shooed them in the direction of a narrow, panelled door. "You'll want a bit of privacy for the next bit." He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, apparently quite enjoying himself.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and looked a bit discomfited. Insecure-Snape groaned slightly and looked distinctly green. Realization dawned on Hermione. The part with the lance and the breeching of the armor. The enforcement of the Bond. So now Professor Snape was going to... with Professor Snape... Oh, dear. Quite. Very much so.

Hermione rapidly looked anywhere but at any of the professors as the newly-betrothed couple disappeared through the door.

Professor Dumbledore looked cheerfully at Professor McGonagall. "What do you think? Fifteen minutes, hm?"

McGonagall tutted, her hands clasped tightly before her. "Ach, really, Albus, I wouldn't know."

The Headmaster looked amused. "I do wonder..."

Professor McGonagall looked as though she'd rather not pursue it, but finally gave in and asked, "Wonder what?"

"You know... Who will ... do the honors?"

A snort came from the region of the remaining Snapes. And a whimper. Hermione stole a glance at Insecure-Snape. She caught him just in the attitude of swallowing over a large lump in his throat. Bile, most likely, she clinically thought.

Professor McGonagall straightened her back even further. "I'm sure I don't know," she responded icily. "Nor do I find it an appropriate topic of conversation. Little jugs have big ears." She nudged her elbow meaningfully in Hermione's direction.

"Oh, my dear," Dumbledore chuckled, "I'm sure Miss Granger knows all about the details of the Bonding. Theoretically, at any rate," he added with a genteel bow in Hermione's direction. "She was the one who brought the spell to my attention, after all. One wonders how in the world she came across it..." he mused.

Not having been addressed directly, Hermione merely gave an embarrassed half-smile and hoped she didn't look half as mortified as Insecure-Snape did. If the poor man cringed any further, he'd turn himself inside out.

The other Snapes' attitudes, for their part, ranged from restless to bored as the minutes ticked by. Dumbledore tried several times to engage one or the other of them in conversation, but only Dutiful-Snape replied with more than a grunt or a glare. Lying-Snape and Stickler-Snape began to argue over who had misplaced the toothpaste that morning. Professor McGonagall wandered over to a little steaming whirligig and absently Transfigured it into a flamingo and back several times.

Hermione became increasingly fidgety and kept glancing over at the door through which Sadistic- and Vengeful-Snape had passed. Surely it had been fifteen minutes by now? What could be keeping them? She tried to make her thoughts skirt around the image of what they were actually doing. Or supposed to be doing. Would they be able to do that? With each other? Or with themselves, if one were to be completely accurate? She deemed it to be slightly more allowable to consider whether she would be able to do such a thing with herself, and was surprised to find, after a moment, that, yes, she believed she could. After all, who knew her better than herself? Who knew better where she liked to be touched, how hard or gentle, a feather-light tickle of the fingernail, or a firm pinch... Hermione swallowed and crossed her legs.

After what seemed like an eternity, Professor McGonagall flicked her wand one last time and turned away from the flamingo/whirligig impatiently. "Are you sure we shouldn't check on them, Albus?" she asked, interrupting the Headmaster and one of the Snapes as they perused a magazine.

"It's the cable stitch that intrigues me, here--" he was saying, indicating one of the illustrations with his wand. He looked up at hearing McGonagall's voice. Snape looked positively relieved at the digression.

"What's that, Minerva?"

"I said, should we check on them?" she repeated with a frown. "They've been in there nearly half an hour. You don't think anything's gone wrong, do you?"

"No, I am quite certain that everything is as it should be," he replied in his infuriatingly placid manner.

"Of course," McGonagall said, although she was obviously not placated. She was about to head for another of Professor Dumbledore's gadgets, no doubt with another avian Transfiguration in mind, when the door clicked open.

All heads snapped in the same direction. Through the door stepped Professor Snape, looking none the worse. His black hair hung straight down on either side of his head, his black robe was neatly buttoned, and his well-schooled scowl looked more menacing than ever. He stopped just inside the door and surveyed the group. His scowl turned to a smirk as he took note of the necks craning to see whether he would be followed by his counterpart. He kicked the door shut behind him.

"It worked, then?" Professor Dumbledore posed the question on everyone's tongue.

"Very well," Snape purred, causing goosebumps to travel down Hermione's arms. That voice... so full of the promise of pain and reprisal. Had this really been a good idea?

Dumbledore clapped his hands together once. "Splendid. Congratulations all around. Miss Granger... Severus ..." He acknowledged the remaining single professors with a beaming smile. "In that case, let us proceed." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Who's next up?"

But before any of the others could stand up, the reunited one glided over to stand before the Headmaster and fixed him with a malignant sneer. "Your experiment has been successful. You have succeeded, once again, in creating a monster out of me. But this time I am not weakened by any of _them_." He swept his arm behind him in a derogatory reference to the rest of his persona. "The unification stops here. For me, at least. What you do with the rest of those weaklings is no more concern of mine. I will tell you this now: I am walking out of here, no longer your pawn. You have given me the opportunity to be my own man, on my own agenda. I can feel the resurgence of my magic. You know better than anyone how strong I was before; yes, I am weaker now, but still stronger than half of wizardkind, strong enough to achieve anything that I want. And that's exactly what I am going to do now: what _I_ want."

Professor McGonagall drew in a sharp breath, but Snape paid her no mind, instead stepping back and turning on his heel, already on his way to the exit when Dumbledore spoke once more. The sound of his voice caused Snape to stop, his back still to the Headmaster.

When Dumbledore spoke, his voice was tinged with sadness. "My dear, poor Severus." He sighed. "Life has been hard on you. Harder than on most. It is true, you do have extraordinary abilities, and you must be feeling extraordinarily powerful at the moment. But it is an illusion. You are not all-powerful. You will find that what you believe to be your greatest strength, will turn out to be your downfall. And what you are now so scornful of, will be all that can save you. You may go, of course. I will not stop you. I hope only that you will return of your own accord, before much more dire and wicked circumstances force it."

The silence in the room following this speech was cold and heavy. Snape did not turn, but Hermione could see in his profile a tightening of his jaw, and then he spoke, his words harsh and suffused with hatred. "Be warned, Albus Dumbledore: you are among the first who will experience retribution. When the time is right. You will not escape unscathed."

"No. I shall not," Dumbledore calmly agreed.

Without another word, Snape opened the outer door and left.

Professor McGonagall could no longer hold her peace. "Albus, you can't-- We cannot allow him to leave! We cannot unleash... that ... on the population of Hogwarts!"

"He will not stay in the castle," Dumbledore assured her.

"On Hogsmeade then, on the unsuspecting innocents wherever he may be heading!" Professor McGonagall was beside herself.

"Where he is going, there are no innocents," Dumbledore said. "Do you agree, Severus?" he asked Smart-Snape.

The man in question nodded. "Indubitably. He will see that as his best possibility at the moment. Although I must say that I concur with Minerva: no good can come of him wandering about unchecked."

"What is good?" posed Dumbledore rhetorically to the round. "I daresay at the very least he will be predictable, and predictability is rarely a bad thing. And, although he may have the market cornered on ill will at the moment, he is neither at his most clever nor at his most resourceful."

Smart-Snape had to concede the point, but Minerva still was not appeased. "And what about the rest of the Bonding? How do you propose to re-unite Severus with all of his personalities, without those two? Not that I think he wouldn't be much improved without them," she added pedantically, "but this is soul magic we are dealing with, Albus. We would do best to return him to his original state, if at all possible."

"An improvement is neither necessary, nor would it be possible," announced one of the Snapes with an attitude of injured pride.

"Quite right," Dumbledore acknowledged him. "We will do our utmost to reverse what has been done, no more and no less. But we won't be needing that aspect of your person for a day or so, at least. We will complete the remaining four initial Bonds this evening, and then I believe we could all do with a good night's sleep. Especially as the second portion seems to be more time-consuming than we had originally thought." He twinkled at the Snapes.

It did take over an hour for the next two Bonds to be completed. In turn, Dutiful- and Stickler-Snape, and Proud- and Iron-Will-Snape had been reduced to single bodies.. Now, having completed the third incantation, they were just waiting for Self-Preserving-Snape and Lying-Snape to activate the Bond behind the panelled door. Minerva had nipped out to take care of a House matter, and the Headmaster was napping lightly in his armchair. The two freshly united professors also looked like they were ready to call it a night. This whole Bonding must be quite exhausting, Hermione surmised.

As for her, she was simply bored. She started making anagrams out of the letters in "copulata aeterna". She had come up with the obvious "copulate at arena" and the somewhat less so "eat out, carnal ape", as well as the unappetising but interesting "a trout canape; ale" when she was distracted by someone speaking.

"You-- you don't have to, you know," whispered Insecure-Snape across the room to Smart-Snape.

Smart-Snape, who had been working out some equations on a scrap of parchment, frowned and queried: "Don't have to what?"

Insecure-Snape looked at the floor. "The Bond. You don't have to... Bond with me."

"Of course I do," the other one retorted with an air of the obvious. "We're the only ones left."

"I only meant..." He gulped. "I know how you all feel about me. I was thinking about what _he_ said. You don't need me for anything. You'll have enough magic without me. This is your chance."

The two Snapes who had already completed the Bond sat up and took notice. Hermione wasn't sure anymore which was which, but one of them had the look about him of the one who had been carrying on the teaching duties, and the other had a hard, brook-no-argument look. "You can't back out now!" Teaching-Snape exlaimed. "I know for a fact there we didn't have a self-sacrificing bone in our body, and we won't be starting with one now!"

"We must complete _all_ of the Bonds," No-Argument-Snape insisted. "It is our set course of action, and I will force you to comply, if need be." He gave Insecure-Snape a hard glare.

Smart-Snape for his part snorted derisively at Insecure-Snape. "There is so much wrong with that I don't even know where to begin. Just try not to think. You're not cut out for it. Leave the reasoning to me. I say we will complete the Bond. I'm the only one of us who _will_ do it with you, and that's why I didn't volunteer for any of the others. Now quit your whinging and try not to touch anything!"

Insecure-Snape sank back into his chair and looked even more miserable than before, if possible. This seemed to appease the other two, already-Bonded Snapes, and Smart-Snape was about to return to his notes when a thought seemed to occur to him. "Unless... You aren't afraid of the...?" He waved his hand toward the door behind which even now Self-Preserving-Snape and Lying-Snape were committing unspeakable acts. Or, unspoken, at least. Hermione had finally come to the conclusion that there was some sort of silencing charm on the door, or on the room beyond it, because for the life of her she hadn't been able to hear a thing during any of the Bonding sessions which had gone on behind it. And it wasn't for lack of trying, believe you me.

Insecure-Snape shook his head rapidly in answer to Smart-Snape's query, but his eyes got wide and Hermione noticed that he clutched the arms of his chair tightly. The other two Snapes smirked knowingly at each other.

Smart-Snape chuckled dryly. "I do assure you, I am not looking forward to it any more than you. But what must be done, must be done. If nothing else, it will be an interesting exercise in _self_-mastery. Who knows; you may even learn something."

Insecure-Snape did not look reassured. Hermione was just beginning to ponder what Smart-Snape had meant by 'learning something' when the door re-opened. Dumbledore was immediately awake.

"Looks like that went off well," he said in a sort of thick, scratchy voice, the kind you get when you try to talk without clearing your throat after you've been sleeping. He hacked and harrumphed a bit, then popped a piece of candy from the dish on his desk into his mouth. "Better," he proclaimed and stood up a bit stiffly, even as the latest new-Snape sat down...also a bit stiffly. "Well, gentlemen, ladies, let us take care of our last pair."

"Minerva isn't back yet," Smart-Snape drawled in a bored manner.

"Isn't she?" Dumbledore looked around in mild surprise, then turned to the wall behind him. "Asa, would you be so good as to let Minerva know we are waiting for her? I believe she is in Gryffindor Tower."

A portrait of a middle-aged man in a fur-lined gown and with a red barett cap on his head nodded curtly and disappeared.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his hands tucked into the opposite sleeves like a fu manchu.

"It's really getting quite late, Headmaster," Teaching-Snape finally mentioned. "I have preparations to make for tomorrow's classes. Perhaps we could postpone the remaining Bond until another time?"

"I wholeheartedly agree," concurred Resourceful-Snape. "It would be in all of our best interests to get a good night's sleep before continuing."

Hermione was inclined to agree. After all, most of the Snapes had been Bonded now. Who knew how long Professor McGonagall would be?

"I can't believe the two of you," No-Argument-Snape scolded tetchily. "Especially you," he said, indicating Teaching-Snape. "I'd expect _him_ to go for the easy way out, but you should realize how important it is to follow through on what we've started. Anything can happen between now and tomorrow." He gave both Teaching-Snape and Resourceful-Snape a dark and meaningful look. "_Anything_."

Resourceful-Snape's eyes widened ever so slightly in understanding. "Yes." He nodded. "I see what you mean. I revise my opinion. Safety in numbers."

No-Argument-Snape looked satisfied, although still displeased.

Teaching-Snape clicked his tongue impatiently. "Oh, all right, then. All this serving two masters business always did stretch me thin."

Resourceful-Snape stepped on Teaching-Snape's foot and growled.

Hermione perked her ears. Two masters? Dumbledore stirred, and held out a plate of lime green boiled sweets toward her. "Sourpuss?" he offered.

Hermione was taken a little off-guard. "No, thank you," she nevertheless replied politely.

Professor Dumbledore looked like he was about to ask something else when a quick knock sounded.

"Come in," the Headmaster called.

Professor McGonagall entered, and immediately fixed Dumbledore with an accusing look. "It seems," she said, closing the door behind her, "that Professor Snape caused something of a stir on his way out."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Nothing you weren't able to handle, I assume?" he inquired mildly.

"Nothing _Peeves_ wasn't able to handle," she retorted with grim satisfaction. "Unfortunately, the entire incident occurred at the foot of Gryffindor Tower-- Why ever you have it in for my House in particular, I completely fail to understand, by the by--" she interjected haughtily toward the five Snapes in the office.

"Tradition," Teaching-Snape immediately responded.

McGonagall frowned severely. "There has never been a tradition of pantsing Gryffindors by Slytherins. And by a man who holds the position of a professor of this institution, no less," she huffed.

"Yes, there was," a small voice said.

"What's that?" McGonagall said sharply, peering intently at Insecure-Snape, who was the one who had spoken.

Insecure-Snape stared at the floor. "There was," he whispered. "They used to do it to me."

"Who did?" McGonagall bored on, with no reduction in sharpness.

Insecure-Snape shook his head. "Never mind," he said miserably.

McGonagall looked justified. "There you are. No basis," she declared.

No-Argument-Snape spoke up. "They did. The Gryffindors used to 'pants' him. Just about killed me every time." He glowered.

"It was very tumultuous," Smart-Snape added. "The Vengeful one and the Self-Preserving one nearly came to blows over it. Figuratively speaking, of course. We were all the same person back then," he added. Hermione was surprised to find that she had nearly forgotten that there used to be just one Professor Snape. Or, plain Severus Snape, he would have been back then. She assumed they were talking about when he had been a student. She recalled that Harry had told her that Snape had been bullied by James Potter and some of his friends. She felt ashamed for Gryffindor House.

Professor McGonagall integrated the information. "Oh. I see. Well, I'm very sorry for your experience, Severus, but if you'd only come to me--"

"I couldn't bloody well do that!" No-Argument-Snape exclaimed. "How would that have looked to the other Slytherins?"

"Professor Slughorn, then," she countered reasonably. "As your Head of House--"

No-Argument-Snape waved a hand dismissively. "It would have come down to the same thing. A Slytherin has to know how to take care of himself."

"I did quite well, if I do say so myself," said Resourceful-Snape with undisguised pride. "I doubt most of the House knew what was really going on."

"You did do well for yourself," Professor Dumbledore concurred, "as well as you knew how, at any rate. Sometimes, though, it is good to remember that one is stronger in the company of one's friends, than one is alone."

"I didn't need any friends!" No-Argument-Snape proclaimed defensively.

Dumbledore looked sadly at Insecure-Snape. "I daresay you could have used some better ones."

Hermione found herself dealing with a lump in her throat and a prickly, sick feeling in her stomach. She didn't like it. She didn't like being in the position of feeling sorry of Professor Snape. He was supposed to be the cruel, heartless bat of the dungeons.

"Enough!" No-Argument-Snape snapped. "We all know how pathetic I was with him--" He flung his arm out toward Insecure-Snape. "They would never have picked on me at all if he hadn't been around."

"I beg to disagree," Smart-Snape said. "There were other factors at work as well, beyond the bullies' urge to pick on those perceived as weak. Our own sadistic side, as well as our inherent pride, played no small role in attracting unwanted attention. Added to that we easily bested any of them in more than one academic subject, which was an attribute much prized by some whom they desired to impress."

This was getting a bit beyond Hermione, and it frustrated her. They were obviously talking about someone whom everyone else in the room knew the identity of, except for her. She was itching to ask about it... Maybe she could worm it out of the insecure one later. Suddenly, it hit her that there would be no insecure one later. Or at least, no purely insecure one. He would be together with the smart one, and he might not feel the same way about her as the insecure one did. Not that the insecure one 'felt' any particular way about her. She'd just gotten the impression, over the past few days, that she and he had begun to build up some sort of... friendship... thing. Ridiculous.

No-Argument-Snape growled, obviously displeased at being disagreed with, by himself, no less. "You are wrong!" he insisted. "It was entirely their fault. They were, and are, self-aggrandizing, pompous, dangerously reckless, coddled and pampered apes!"

"And rule-breakers," expanded Teacher-Snape.

No-Argument-Snape pointed wholeheartedly at Teacher-Snape. "And they break the rules."

Hermione felt even more uncomfortable. How many times had she, Harry, and Ron broken the rules? She had always thought of herself as a law-abiding citizen at heart, but now that she thought about it, she'd probably broken more school rules (and out-and-out laws) than most any other student. And felt utterly justified in doing it. It was a disheartening, and disturbing, thought.

Professor McGonagall bristled. "That is an utterly untrue and unfair indictment of Gryffindor House, and a personal insult to myself, as Head of it. If we were to start listing all of the sins which your own students are guilty of--"

Professor Dumbledore held up his hands. "Minerva, please. Try to bear in mind that Professor Snape is not himself. In his normal state, he would never have voiced such an opinion."

"Never have voiced it, perhaps, but you can be damn' sure that's what he thinks!" Professor McGonagall did not look like she was going to back down.

"We cannot condemn others for what they think," he reminded her. "Our mind is the one place where we can truly be free from judgement by others. Hm? Although..." He directed his next comment to Teacher-Snape and No-Argument-Snape. "I do feel that we ofttimes judge ourselves too harshly as well."

"More philosophizing!" said No-Argument-Snape with contempt. "I know that you pity me. You need not. I have always been able to take care of myself, with or without my insecurities, and I will continue to do so." His black eyes flashed, and Hermione felt a surge of admiration.

"That's the spirit," Dumbledore said approvingly. "Now, if we could, I believe some of us have further pressing matters to attend to? The last Bond, if you please." The atmosphere relaxed palpably at the re-direction of attention, but even after the magic had been performed and Hermione returned to her dormitory after its succesful completion, she couldn't rid herself of the emotions that had been stirred in her, and it was not until the wee hours of the morning that she was finally able to sink into a light and restless sleep.

-/-/-/-/-

_A.N. Dang. It was funny, and then it took that dark turn. Interesting. Not what I was planning on doing, but it looks like it'll be fun to follow this bunny for a bit, while carrying the first one along. --pets--_

_The reduction to five personalities, for those of you who are keeping track, went like this:_

_Sadistic+Vengeful ... the mean one_

_Stickler+Dutiful ... the teacher_

_Proud+Iron-Will ... the one who allows no argument and thinks he's always right_

_Liar+Self-Preserving ... the resourceful one_

_Smart+Insecure ... OK, how about... the smart insecure one :-)_

_Anagrams found at:_

_wordsmith . org / anagram / anagram . cgi ? anagram equals copulata + aeterna __(no spaces, and 'equals' is the equals sign; for some reason, the site won't let me upload a url or the equals sign... ??)_


	7. Chapter 7: Can't Have Your Cake

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter Seven**

**You Can't Have Your Cake and Eat It, Too**

It was cold. He could feel the damp air chilling him from the inside out as he huddled in the shadows of the viaduct. The cheap material of the robes did nothing to warm him, and he vowed vengeance on Madam Malkin for having made them. And, for good measure, on himself for having agreed to the purchase in the first place. It had probably been the dutiful one. Or perhaps the self-preserving one. A couple of skinflints, they were. Didn't have the balls to stand up for themselves. Or for him, rather. He'd fix them, and good. But first, he needed to get a wand.

And it wasn't like he could just waltz into Ollivanders, either. Surely they'd all be out looking for him by now, just itching to force him back into a body with Snivelly and that obnoxious pedant. The way he could drone on for hours and hours about such inane topics as the exact angle to hold one's blade when chopping monkshood, or why pickled frog livers were superior to freeze-dried ones. It was enough to make you want to cut out his tongue, really. Now there was an idea! He filed it away for future reference.

But just now, he needed a place where he could lie low, and wait until the next Summons from the Dark Lord. It was an annoying fact, but the Dark Mark didn't work both ways; the Dark Lord could contact his Death Eaters through the Mark, but there was no way for a Death Eater to contact him. Snape supposed that must be one of the Thirty Rules for Successful Dark Lordship: Don't Give Out Your Number To Just Anyone.

He heard laughter, the sound of footsteps approaching. He withdrew further into the shadows. It was a pair of youths, one with a bomber jacket and hoodie pulled up against the cold, the other with a woollen longshoreman's cap tight over his ears. They were galumphing along, their trousers baggy and their trainers thick and shiny white in the dark. The smell of fried food wafted out from a brown paper bag one of them was carrying.

Snape was quick. Appearing seemingly out of nowhere, he slammed the heel of his hand into the bridge of hoodie's nose and felt a satisfying crack. Seamlessly, his elbow connected with the other one's windpipe. He scraped his hard-heeled boot down the shin of the one how bent over, howling and with blood running down his face, and spat on him for good measure. Then, plucking up the greasy bag, he ran through to the other end of the overpass, leaving the two boys groaning on the pavement.

--/--/--/--/--

"Severus!" The surprise on Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's faces was evident as Snape sprang out of their fireplace. They were having breakfast, judging by the dishes on the table.

It had merely been a matter of using the Invisibility Potion he'd nicked from – well, not nicked, they were his potions, too – from the Potions master's personal stores in order to avoid the Muggle conductor on the overnight train. Once in Salisbury, he'd gone straight to the one wizarding pub he knew, the Screaming Banshee, gambling that word of his "escape" wouldn't have made it that far south yet. A flash of his Dark Mark, and the winsome waitwitch had been all too happy to provide him with a handful of Floo powder. And here he was now, at Malfoy Manor.

"Is it Draco—" Narcissa blurted out, white-faced, at the same time as Lucius demanded, "What do you mean by this?"

Snape brushed the soot from his robes. "I've left Hogwarts and am now going to dedicate myself entirely to the Dark Lord's service," he announced, feeling pleased that the half-truth came to his lips so easily. 'Just you see if I need that extra lying one; all he did was take up space,' he thought triumphantly. "I'll need a place to await his Summons," he told the room in general.

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a look. "This is all… so sudden," Malfoy ventured, regaining his composure. "Was this decision precipitated by any… particular incident?" he asked delicately.

"I had an epiphany!" Snape gave Malfoy a hard stare, daring him to probe further.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "I see. Bloody Mary?"

Snape noted the barely imperceptible shake of Narcissa Malfoy's head. "Thank you, don't mind if I do," he said smugly, taking a seat. It was too bad that the Malfoys had always been rather decent to him; it took all the fun out of imposing on them. Not that he wouldn't milk it for all it was worth. "And I seem to recall that you stock a particularly delicate caviar. A tin or two with toast would go down well." He sat back and smirked to himself as Lucius closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

--/--/--/--/--

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long before the next Death Eater meeting was called. He couldn't help wondering if Malfoy hadn't somehow been able to speed things along, and if so, he didn't really begrudge it him, as it only worked to Snape's advantage. Not that he disliked dining on lobster and prime rib, and drinking his way through Malfoy's wine cellar, but he hadn't struck out on his own merely in order to live the high life. He had crimes to commit, people to hurt, and past insults to avenge seventy time sevenfold. And in fact, disturbingly, he was beginning to miss some of the weaker aspects of his personality; it had been such fun belittling them and pulling out their nose hairs when they were sleeping. When his brain started spinning such thoughts, he knew it was time to get out and do a bit of light torture to distract himself.

"Severus. Approach." The slitted eyes were closed, the flat nostrils flared, the scaly white hand extended. Snape stepped out of the circle that had assembled itself and approached the black-robed figure, dropping to his knee before it.

"Remove your mask," the serpentine wizard commanded, opening his eerie red eyes and glaring down at his underling.

Snape complied, peeling off the silver headpiece and shaking out his stringy hair; his time with the Malfoys had not improved his personal hygiene habits any. He raised his eyes to meet his Master's and withstood his gaze for several long moments.

"So, it is truly you," Voldemort said finally. "But is it all of you? I have heard reports of you teaching classes at Hogwarts at the same time as you have supposedly been taking advantage of Lucius' hospitality. I can only conclude that you have been unable to reverse the magic which reduced you to a pathetic shadow of your former self." His lip curled in distaste as he commanded, "Speak."

"My Lord is well informed, as ever," Snape admitted, all the while vowing to track down whoever had ratted on him. "But the most important point was omitted: the potion's effects have been reversed; my strongest and most useful aspects re-united as you see me before you now, the useless flotsam and jetsam discarded and left behind to play out their drone-like existence in ignomy and shame." His black eyes glittered with a keen hunger that reflected Voldemort's own.

"If it is as you say…" the Dark Lord began, "then your ability to perform magic has been restored as well?"

"I am more eager than you can imagine to have at it, my Lord. I lack only a wand."

The unnaturally flat face showed displeasure, but nonetheless snapped, "Avery! Give him your wand!"

A short, rounded figure hurried forward and extended a wand in Snape's direction. Snape stood and took it, sneering at the thick, brown stick. It felt unwieldy and clumsy in his hand, but the prickle of magic was unmistakable. He adjusted his grip and aimed it at Bellatrix, recognizable by the wild mane of black hair spilling out from behind her mask. She had questioned his loyalty once too often for his taste. He let the full strength of his anger at her build up, recalling the feeling of injustice and indignation at the suggestion that he, who had always done the Dark Lord's bidding, even at risk to his own life, might ever work at cross purposes to their Master; adding to that the humiliation he had felt when Bellatrix had laughed when he was first suggested as a recruit; and the fact that she was related to that mongrel, Black, and that her family had known – indubitably, there having been at least one Prince in the Black family tree as well – of his mother's unhappy alliance with that detested Muggle, and of his own miserable childhood, and had done nothing to alleviate it. All of this he gathered in him, bundled it into a white-hot ball of fury. It suffused him; he was the anger. He knew nothing but a blinding cry for vengeance, an undeniable urge to cause pain, and then with all the force of his will, he released it into his wand hand, at the same time screaming, "Crucio!" at the top of his lungs.

Bellatrix attempted to block him, but he would not be denied this release, and in a trice, she was on the floor, her body contorting like an eel on dry land. The sound of her screams triggered a flood of endorphins in Snape, and with the pleasure, his anger was diminished, such that he ended the spell with a triumphant laugh.

"You Muggle-loving bastard!" Bellatrix screeched, gasping for air. "Let's see you do that to one of your precious Order! All that proves is that you hate me because I'm the only one who sees through you!"

"Enough, Bellatrix!" Voldemort commanded. "It proves that he can do what he needs to. To bring you to your knees, and with a borrowed wand, is quite a feat." He turned to Snape. "And now, I believe I have a very interesting task for you."

--/--/--/--/--

"This is going to be fun, in't it, Snape?" Alecto grinned, displaying her yellowed and uneven dentition; one of her eyeteeth had broken off, leaving a jagged fang.

"Just shut up and open the door," Snape snarled. He didn't like Carrow. Not that he much liked anyone. But she was sloppy, unpredictable; liable to fire off a wild shot and set off an alarm. He would much rather be doing this on his own. Then he'd have them all to himself: Prendergast and Tilly Abbott. Prendergast had done something incredibly stupid: He'd married a Muggle. Snape understood only too well Lord Voldemort's feelings about magical folk who mixed with Muggles. If his own mother had only stuck to her own kind, he could have grown up with all the advantages, instead of having been stuck in that filthy hovel, exposed to the whims of a father trying to prove his manhood with his fists. A signal had to be sent, and he, Snape, was the one to send it through the Abbotts. He rolled his eyes as Carrow blasted the door in.

"A simple Alohomora would have sufficed," he growled, and stalked in.

--/--/--/--/--

"Buggery hell." It had all been going so well, and now this. He'd found Mrs Abbott, the Muggle, easily enough; she'd been standing in front of the telly, ironing a pile of shirts. He'd tortured her a bit while Alecto chased Mr Abbott, who had gone after his wand, up the stairs. Nothing fancy, just a couple of Crucios. He'd been about to try a Chinese Water Torture Curse, as it wasn't every day he had the time to experiment, when he was distracted by the sound of Alecto screaming. Abbott must have gotten the better of her; it wasn't that he wanted to help Alecto out, per se, but if Abbott escaped, the Dark Lord would be very displeased and possibly make him give back Avery's wand. Sighing, Snape finished Mrs Abbott off with a Killing Curse – and then everything had gone black. When he came to, it was to the sight of Mr Abbott weeping over his wife's body… and to the realization that he was, once again, sitting next to a carbon copy of himself. In the nude. With a pounding headache. Buggery hell. He'd re-split.


	8. Chapter 8: Into the Woods

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter Eight**

**Into the Woods**

"This is all your fault!" Vengeful-Snape pushed the other one, hard, making him stumble and fall to his knees in a patch of mud. The forest around them was still dark. A faint point of light, no brighter than a firefly, glowed at the end of their wand.

"See if I care!" Sadistic-Snape retorted from the ground, and, lunging at his adversary, knocked him down, too. The wandlight went out.

"You're going to wish you hadn't done that!" The first one felt around wildly for the wand, but the second one was already on top of him, punching and clawing. Soon enough, it had evolved into an all-out Snapefight. That is, until one of them ended up face-down on the ground, his mouth full of dead leaves, a tree root poking into his ribs, the other Snape's elbow in his back … and his trousers being roughly pulled down. They had taken advantage of the pile of freshly-ironed laundry next to the corpse, and grabbed the first things they had laid their hands on before beating a hasty retreat. Mr Abbott was apparently quite a bit portlier than Snape was, and his trousers hung dangerously loose on Snape's lean frame.

"Just what do you think you're doing!" the Snape on the ground bellowed, madly swatting at the Snape sitting on his back, to no avail.

"I'm going to get us re-assimilated, you low-down backstabber! Only this time it'll be me stabbing you," he added triumphantly, forcing bottom Snape's legs apart with his knee.

"You'll never!" bottom Snape cried, and reached around to where he assumed top Snape's most sensitive parts would be, even now, preparing to stab him in the backside, as it were, and thus, exposed to the elements. Bull's-eye. Would-be top Snape let loose with an ungodly roar of pain, allowing saved-from-being-bottom Snape to roll away.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" the injured Snape asked resentfully several minutes later, having recovered somewhat. It was all but pitch dark, and both had retreated to private tree trunks, still close enough to hear the other one breathing and surreptitiously feeling around for the wand. "You were eager enough to do it the first time!"

"That was me doing it to you, in case you've forgotten," he retorted huffily. "I have no desire to be subjected to that kind of pain, although," he added, his sadistic smirk audible, "I am told it is exquisite."

"It's nothing to write home about," Vengeful-Snape muttered. Then he continued, petulantly, "I thought we'd agreed that we could best further our own ends together. Our magical strength is certainly much improved. That was a hell of a Cruciatus we cast on Bellatrix!" Now his own satisfied grin was clear despite the darkness.

"It did feel good," Sadistic-Snape agreed, then added bitterly, "And now we can't even cast so much as a bloody Lumos between us. Do you really think that we just have to re-trigger the Bond?"

"I don't know," Vengeful-Snape admitted, "but do you have any other bright ideas?"

"No. Very well then. But I shall do the honors."

"I don't think I could at this point, anyway, after what you did to me before. It's still bloody well sore!"

-/--/--/--/--/-

"There it is."

"What?"

"The wand." Vengeful-Snape pointed lackadaisically at the stick, half-hidden in a fungal growth on the forest floor. Day was just breaking, and the mist hung soft and thick between the trees.

"You can carry it. Fat lot of good it'll do us like this anyway."

"I still say we should try it the other way around."

"No! I may not be the smartest one, but even I can see that the entire ritual needs to be repeated. Now we can stay here in this pitiful patch of undergrown shrubbery, screwing each other up the arse until we can't walk straight—"

"Not that I can now, anyway," Vengeful-Snape interjected peevishly, delicately adjusting his stance. "Did you _have_ to be so rough?"

"—or we can get back to Hogwarts and get re-Bonded. And no, I didn't _have_ to be so rough," Sadistic-Snape added smugly.

Vengeful-Snape rolled his eyes. "You know what will happen if we go back there. Dumbledore won't let us go a second time. He wants to put us back with the others. Once he's got us, he'll Bond us to the rest."

"He let us go easily enough the first time," Sadistic-Snape reminded him. "The old fool counts too much on loyalty and honour. Luckily, we haven't got a drop of either one between us." Both Snapes laughed viciously at that.

"But still," Vengeful-Snape pointed out, once again solemn, "he is powerful. He may be expecting us to return. It's uncanny how he does that. The others weren't Bonded yet when we left, so he had no reason to keep us then. Now, they are probably just waiting for us to come crawling back. I couldn't stand giving him the satisfaction!"

"Yes, that is a point," Sadistic-Snape said. "All right, then, what if we don't go to Dumbledore. Who else could do it?"

"Anyone, I suppose, if they knew the spell. But I haven't a clue where to find it, and it's not exactly common knowledge, now is it?" Vengeful-Snape said with a sneer. "I doubt that even the Dark Lord would know it."

"That means we're stuck with Dumbledore."

"No, wait! Minerva was there as well. We could have her do it! She's clever enough to have paid attention to what Dumbledore did, and recreate it."

Sadistic-Snape curled his lip. "And you honestly think that she won't run directly to the Headmaster as soon as she sets eye on us? We might as well go straight to him and lick his boots in the first place."

"All right, all right! Maybe we should! We could get re-Bonded, then agree to Bond with the smart one, and then we'd be able to come up with a clever plan for how to avoid getting Bonded with the rest. It wouldn't be so bad having the smart one, would it? We'd be able to make much better plans for vengeance."

"You know where that would lead, though. He'd end up convincing us it'd be smart to Bond with more of them. Maybe the liar first, to lull us into complacency, and then wham! We've got the self-preserving one on our neck."

"It'd be just like him."

"Quite."

"Then it looks like we're stuck. Because if we can't go to Dumbledore, and we can't go to McGonagall, there's no one else who was there and knows the…" Vengeful-Snape stopped and gave Sadistic-Snape a curious look.

Sadistic-Snape's eyes got wide. "You're not thinking…"

"Oh, yes." Vengeful-Snape grinned.

"Of course," Sadistic-Snape whispered.

"She'll have paid close attention," Vengeful-Snape said.

"I've never known a worse swot," Sadistic-Snape said.

"But how will we—"

"We can easily overpower her," Sadistic Snape said grandly. "Even without a wand. We are two fully-grown men, after all. She's nothing but a skinny schoolgirl."

"We'll have to corner her when she's alone."

"Nothing easier. She's always nosing about in the restricted section of the library."

Vengeful-Snape snapped his fingers. "And she's a prefect. Lots of late-night rounds."

"Perfect." Sadistic-Snape's black eyes glittered in anticipation.

-/--/--/--/--/-

Hermione was fidgety. It had been two full days since the marathon Bonding session, when the mean Snape had walked out, and she hadn't heard anything further. The brief furor which the amok run of the two unpleasant personalities had caused, had receded into distant memory. The classroom Snape, now both dutiful and a stickler for details, as well as in possession of an appropriate wardrobe, was close enough to what the students remembered the original Snape to be, that no one gave him a second thought. No one but Hermione, that is.

She scrutinized the professor at every opportunity, trying to make out any subtle differences which would indicate which one was before her. She felt certain that it had been the stubborn one arguing with Professor Sprout at dinner the night before; the original Snape would surely have simply rolled his eyes and made some cutting remark, rather than get embroiled in a discussion over the quality of the greenhouses' asphodel. And she found herself frequenting the library even more often than was her wont, hoping to catch a glimpse of Insecure-Snape. No, not hoping, she corrected herself. It was merely academic curiosity, the desire to observe and compare any changes in his persona. But, disappointingly, he seemed no longer to be considered an Untouchable by the others, or else he had found another place to hide, for she never once saw him in all the two days.

What she really wanted to know was whether any further Bonds had been made. She realized it didn't actually concern her, but on the other hand, she did feel a certain vested interest, given that, A, she had been the one to bring the Bonding text to Professor Dumbledore's attention in the first place, and, B, she had been one of the witnesses to the first set of Bonds. If Professor Snape had been reduced further in number, that meant that the Headmaster would have had to bring someone else in to participate in the ceremony. The idea awoke an understandable degree of jealousy in her. Hadn't she proven that she was trustworthy? Wasn't her word as a witness was as good as Professor McGonagall's? Admittedly, there had been the slight mishap with her wand, but she had recovered and performed admirably. More than admirably. The more she thought about it, the more peeved she became at the snub. Not, she reminded herself, that there was in fact any evidence that further Bonds had been performed.

Quite the contrary; Headmaster Dumbledore had been conspicuously absent from the Great Hall. It was possible that he wasn't even in the castle, and that for that reason, the Bonding had been put on hiatus. Come to think of it, he was, in all likelihood, at that very moment, out looking for Mean-Snape, to haul him back at wand-point and force him to undergo the remaining Bonding. There was nothing like being certain, however, and when it came to finding information, Hermione was nothing if not resoureful.

-/--/--/--/--/-

"Come in, Miss Granger."

Hermione pushed open the door to Professor McGonagall's office. She was about to launch into her prepared speech when she was startled to find the very subject of it swivelling around to fix her with four dark but equally startled looks.

One of them turned quickly around again, hunching his shoulders up in a gesture that immediately identified him as the insecure personality to Hermione. Or, she supposed, the insecure-clever one, as those were the two whom they had Bonded last. Another one continued to watch her disapprovingly, sniffing derisively at the sight of her Muggle trainers peeking out from underneath her robes.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall prompted her, when it appeared that no words were forthcoming from Hermione's mouth. "If it's not urgent, I would appreciate it if you could come back later. Professor Snape and I were in the middle of discussing the next … steps to be taken."

Hermione took a step into the room. "Oh! But that's what I came to ask you about as well, Professor. I realize that it doesn't really concern me, but I thought I would just offer, if you needed me to, I could help with another Bond?" She tried not to sound too eager, but failed dismally.

Insecure-Snape groaned lightly. McGonagall frowned at him, and answered Hermione, "Well, that is the question, isn't it? I have been arguing that we should unify the remaining replicates, with or without the Headmaster, who has been called away on pressing personal business."

"Yes, I thought I had noticed him missing," Hermione said, pulling up another chair beside Insecure-Snape without even really thinking about it. "Has he gone to fetch the m—" She caught herself just in time before she said 'the mean one'. "—the missing professor?" She peered around at the other four, two of whom rolled their eyes.

"I don't know," McGonagall admitted with a bit of a sour expression. "It would certainly make things easier if he had."

"Why is that?" Hermione asked, her eyes round with curiosity.

"Minerva!" Snape broke in. "You will refrain from sharing any details pertaining to my condition with students. Especially with such impertinent ones!" He glared at Hermione.

"She already knows, Severus," McGonagall said haughtily, "and she has kept it to herself, most admirably. And, lest you forget, without her help, you would not be sitting there now, well on your way to recovery."

Insecure-Snape picked at the knee of his trousers and refused to look at Hermione. "I would have figured it out as well," he responded peevishly. "Eventually."

Another Snape spoke up in a prideful tone: "I hardly call this recovered. We are worse off now that we were before."

"At least then we were all together," a third Snape put in. "Now, thanks to her, we've been scattered to the four winds."

"Do try not to exaggerate so," the fourth one admonished coldly. "Strictly speaking, only one-fifth of us is not present at the moment, and we have a good idea where to find him. I hardly think that can be called 'scattered'," he concluded pedantically.

"Please! Severus!" McGonagall broke in. The professors fell silent, but continued to glare, alternately, at Hermione, Professor McGonagall, and each other.

McGonagall directed her attention to Hermione. "We were discussing how to proceed at this point. The Headmaster has, as you noted, been absent since early yesterday, leaving me in temporary charge. I have read the text on the ceremony, and as I said, I feel that we should press forward with the Bonding."

"It is unwise to continue without all of us," Insecure-Snape muttered, eyes still fixed on his knees. "The Bondings must be completed in equal steps."

"I've read the theory, Severus," McGonagall countered crisply, "and I don't see how it can make one whit of difference whether we Bond the eight of you that we have now, and add the other two when they turn up."

Snape began running his hands nervously along the arms of his chair. "We will end up with an imbalance. The two will be Bonded as partner to the eight." He paused and looked up at McGonagall.

"Of course they will be," she replied irritably. "That's the entire point. Unless you mean you want to do away with the other two altogether." She seemed amenable to this idea, but Self-Preserving-Snape exclaimed immediately, "That most certainly is not what he means! We must all be put right."

"No, we can't do without them," Insecure-Snape agreed, visibly distraught. "You aren't understanding me. The two will be Bonded as equals to the eight. They'll take us over."

"Oooh, yes…" Hermione nodded vigorously at Insecure-Snape. "I see what you mean. It's why the Bond was outlawed in the first place. They would be given an overproportionally large portion of the psyche, and with their destructive energy, they'd end up subjugating or even destroying the rest of you. It would be fifty percent against six point two five. They'd be eight times as strong as the rest."

All of the Snapes were now looking at Hermione, their eyes wide. Hermione felt certain that she was about to get her a tongue-lashing for being so bold as to voice her opinion.

"I'm… sorry, that's … Is that not what you meant?" she asked in a small voice.

Insecure-Snape nodded slowly. "That's exactly what I meant." He continued staring at Hermione, making her feel both warm and uncomfortable. She turned to Professor McGonagall.

"So you have to wait," she implored her. "If you don't, if you Bond the other eight now, when the other two are added in later, you'll end up with a really, really bad Professor Snape. Much worse than the one we had before."

Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched.

"Oh!" Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said, and placed her other hand on Professor Snape's arm, then snatched it away again as she realized what she was doing. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"I should hope not!" Proud-Snape said, glaring pointedly at the hand that had grabbed his alter self's arm.

"I think she did," Insecure-Snape said quietly. "None of us are very nice, and I believe you'd just as soon be rid of me as any of the rest. But without them," he said, raising his eyes to McGonagall, "I'd probably be dead. They are part of me; I can't change that, and I won't try to. But I do feel strongly that the Bonding needs to proceed at an even pace; you had almost convinced me to go ahead with it without the others, but Miss Granger has confirmed my initial assumptions."

"Well, I never said you had to do anything, Severus," Minerva spoke up, slightly miffed. "It is, after all, your own soul. I was merely giving my opinion. If you decide to proceed differently, let it be on your own head."

"She's a student, for Merlin's sake," hissed Pedantic-Snape. "Do you really think that she knows more about this subject than a learned witch several decades her senior?"

"I said they were _my_ assumptions," Insecure-Snape insisted quietly. Hermione almost felt proud of him for standing up to the others, but then he ducked his head and added quickly, "But if the rest of you want to proceed with the Bondings, I'll go along with it."

"The numbers are certainly convincing," Pedantic-Snape had to admit. "But I think we should stick to the original plan. It's what Dumbledore intended. If he had wanted us to wait, he would have said something before he left. And if he thought that we needed the others for an even Bond, he wouldn't have let them go in the first place."

"It doesn't matter to me how we proceed, as long as we do it, and soon," Self-Preserving Snape commented.

"That's decided, then," Proud-Snape declared. "We'll do it now."

"But—But you can't, Professor!" Hermione cried to McGonagall. "Professor, you know you're right!" she implored Snape. "The old Professor Snape wouldn't have let this happen!"

"Shows how much you know," sneered Self-Preserving Snape. "There are more important things than being right, you know."

"But—"

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. "That's quite enough, Miss Granger. As you said, this has nothing to do with you. Except that we shall, of course, need you to witness the spell." She peered intently at Hermione over her glasses. "Unless you wish to back out?"

"N—No, Professor," Hermone said, straightening her back. "Of course. If this is…" She leaned over to catch Insecure-Snape's eye. "… really what you want."

"What we want is not important. And most especially not what _he_ wants. We must do what is expected," droned Pedantic-Snape.

"What will return us to normal as quickly as possible," added Self-Preserving Snape.

"Your opinion is, of course, utterly irrelevant," said Proud-Snape, looking down his long nose at Hermione.

"We will need another witness," Insecure-Snape pointed out in a small and, it seemed to Hermione, defeated voice.

Professor McGonagall tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Yes, that's true…"

"Can we risk exposing what's happened to anyone else?" asked Self-Preserving Snape.

"What about Professor Slughorn?" Professor McGonagall suggested.

"As a Slytherin, he would try to use the information to his own advantage," Self-Preserving Snape said.

"If the Bonding is successful, there will be no information for him to use," Professor McGonagall answered. "You will be returned to your original state… minus the one we've lost, of course, and I have no doubt that he will be returned as well, one way or another."

A sly grin spread over Self-Preserving Snape's face. "But we don't need to reveal that to Horace. Let him think that this is all of us."

"He'll rib us no end, you know," Proud-Snape said. "Never let us hear the end of it."

"We could always Obliviate him, if you like," suggested Self-Preserving Snape.

"There will no Obliviations!" remonstrated Professor McGongall sternly. "Hermione, if you would be so kind as to run down to Professor Slughorn's quarters and ask him to join us. I think it best that I stay here with Professor Snape."

Hermione hovered on the edge of her seat. On the one hand, she couldn't very well refuse a direct request from the Deputy Headmistress. On the other hand, though, she could well see that Insecure-Snape was unhappy with the arrangement, an arrangement which she was also fearful would lead to disaster. She decided to give him one last chance to call it off.

"Professor Snape… Are you sure?" she asked Insecure-Snape.

Proud-Snape snorted through his nose. "Of course he's not sure. He's never sure of himself. But I am. Now go and fetch Slughorn." He glared at Hermione in a fairly convincing manner.

"Refusal to obey a direct order from a teacher will result in the deduction of House points, Miss Granger," admonished Dutiful-Snape. He also had the patented Snape glare down pretty well.

"It's all right," Insecure-Snape said uncomfortably. "The others will know what's best."

And so, with a final glance at her Head of House, who had not seemed to take kindly to being questioned, Hermione stumbled out of the room and down the corridor.

There had to be a way to stop this from happening! Oh, if only Professor Dumbledore were there! He would set things aright. Although, Hermione reminded herself, he hadn't taken any initiative as yet in this entire affair; in fact, it had been she and the insecure aspect of Professor Snape who had gotten them this far. If only the others would listen to them now! But without Professor Dumbledore on their side, or at least Professor McGonagall, they had no chance of winning over the others.

Maybe she could go back and say that she hadn't been able to find Professor Slughorn… True, that would only delay them, as Professor McGonagall was sure to discover Professor Slughorn's whereabouts in a matter of minutes. She had only to send another student, or go herself. But maybe those few minutes would be enough for Professor Dumbledore to show up. Where could he be? And how to contact him and let him know what was going on?

Suddenly, Hermione had an idea: She would send the Headmaster an urgent message by owl! She'd have to be quick; then she would run down to Professor Slughorn's _office_ – She was well aware that Professor McGonagall had told her to go to his private rooms, as it was well-known that he spent no more time behind his desk than was required by his contract; but then she could return to the Deputy Headmistress and say Slughorn hadn't been there. If she were extremely lucky, Professor McGonagall would deem it too late to pursue the matter further that night. And by tomorrow, hopefully Professor Dumbledore would have received her message and be back to straighten things out.

Filled with renewed zeal, she turned her steps upward towards the owlery. She had reached the seventh floor and was nearly at the entrance when she felt herself being grabbed from behind. A strong arm pinned her arms at her sides and another one clapped itself over her mouth and shoved her into the owlery.


	9. Chapter 9: Do Not Try This At Home

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter Nine**

**Do Not Try This At Home**

Hermione struggled frantically against her attacker, bringing her heel down hard against his shin and onto his foot, but her trainers made little impression. The owls on their perches in the darkness above flapped around discontentedly at the disturbance below them, but quickly settled back down, hooting in reproach.

A lean body pressed against hers from behind as the hand over her mouth pulled her head back. "Don't make a sound and I won't need to hurt you," a voice spoke low in her ear. The same voice chuckled from somewhere a bit further away, and she heard the door closing behind them. "Don't make any promises that I won't keep," it said, and then Professor Snape came around to stand before her.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. Had one of them followed her silently, to make sure that she went to get Slughorn? Or two, more likely, as there was still someone holding her from behind. The proud one and the dutiful one? There was something about the man standing before her that didn't set right, though; a look in his eye, the way he was standing – she had never really felt scared of the teaching Snape, but something about this one made her hair stand on end. She also realized with a rush of embarrassment that the one behind her had his arm pressed against her breasts.

The Snape in front of her reached out and started feeling around in her robes. She tried to protest, her voice muffled by the hand over her mouth, and kicked at him, now really beginning to panic. He wasn't going to…? But no, he had just been after her wand. He held up the stick of vine wood triumphantly.

"Now we each have one! _Silencio_! _Petrificus Totalus_!" he crowed, pointing her wand at her. Hermione's entire body went stiff, although after a moment she found that she could still move her limbs, albeit only very slowly, as if she were submerged in a thick mud.

"She's not paralyzed all the way," the Snape behind her said testily. "Let me." He let go of her, and she collapsed against the wall and toppled over onto the dropping-strewn floor. She wasn't able to get her arms up quickly enough to break her fall, and she landed unpleasantly hard, knocking the air out of her lungs, but through some stroke of fortune, she didn't hit her head. She cried out, but the sound came out at about a tenth of the normal volume. She wasn't going to be able to call for help. As she lay there gasping, she heard, "_Petrificus Totalus_!" again, and her body snapped to rigid attention; now, all she could move was her fingers and toes, and that only with difficulty. She looked up to see two Professors Snape looming over her in the darkness.

"There, that should do her," one of them said, poking her with the tip of his boot.

"What do you want?" she managed to scratch out, barely audibly.

"Want? What I _want_ is to make you pay for all times you interfered in my class and tried to make me look stupid!" He snarled and put the bottom of his boot on her cheek and gave her head a shove, grinding grit and bird droppings into her skin.

"There'll be time for that afterwards," promised the other Snape. "Although it does look like fun." He pressed his boot against her mouth and pushed until she tasted blood. When he took it away, she darted her tongue out automatically to clean her lip, and ended up with a mouthful of filth. Snape laughed as she tried to spit ineffectually.

"That'll teach you to open your mouth without being told," the first Snape said. He hunkered down to speak to her. She noticed now that he was wearing Muggle clothing; poorly-fitting Muggle clothing. His breath was foul and he smelled unwashed as well. "But now, Miss Granger, there is something which we need you to do for us. I am not feeling particularly gracious about having to come to you, but we see no alternative. We need you to perform the Bonding spell."

Hermione was confused. That was the whole plan, wasn't it? And why had he changed out of his robes? "I will! I am!" she said in her strange, diluted voice. "I was on my way to Professor Slughorn's room, I swear! I must have lost my way!"

"I don't care where you were going. You're going to come with us now." He hauled her to her feet. "I am going to release your legs now. If you try to get away, there will be worse than a deduction of House points. I trust I make myself clear."

"Perfectly," she rasped. Now she was in trouble. Not only had she failed to delay the Bonding, but now she'd have Professor McGonagall angry with her as well, for neglecting to carry out a simple order. She would never buy the excuse that Hermione had got lost. She felt a great failure, and at the top of her imagined list of people she had disappointed was not, interestingly, Professor McGonagall, but Professor Snape. The insecure one, anyway.

One of the Snapes checked to make sure that the hallway was empty, and then she was frogmarched around the corner to a familiar blank stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Bernard the Barmy. It didn't surprise her that he knew of the Room of Requirement. After it had been exposed as the DA's hiding place by Marietta Edgecombe, no doubt the entire staff knew of its existence. What did surprise her was the fact that they were coming here, instead of going down to Professor Slughorn's rooms or back to Professor McGonagall's office.

One of her captors held her while the other one paced back and forth three times, and the outline of a door appeared. The three of them entered quickly.

What Hermione saw caused her another bout of anxiety: The room was now dominated by a large, four-poster bed. What in the world did Professor Snape have in mind with her?

He thrust her from him, causing her to stumble and grab one of the bed posts for support. "What are you going to do with me?" she asked fearfully.

"_Finate incantatem_," the one with her wand said. "You will need your voice to perform the incantation."

"What incantation? What are you talking about?" Hermione asked, this time in her normal voice.

"This is supposed to be the smartest witch of her age?" he asked the other one, who smirked. "The Bonding spell, imbecile!" he yelled at her. "We need you to re-Bond us!"

"To…" What he was saying began to sink in. "To _re_-Bond you? You mean, you're…"

"There was a slight mishap with a Muggle," Snape explained smugly. "It must have caused us to re-split. We can't very well go to Dumbledore or McGonagall. They'd try to shackle us back to the others. But _you_ were there. _You_ heard the incantation. _You_ observed the wand motions. _You_ will re-Bond us. Now."

"So you're the …" She tried to think of a tactful way of putting it. "The one who left? The one who was Bonded first?"

"I'm the one who's going to make things very unpleasant for you if you don't quit stalling and start the spell. I believe our hands must be joined like this." He and the other Snape grabbed each other's hands.

"But… I can't!" Hermione protested. "I mean," she hastened to explain at the thunderous look on both of their faces, "I mean, I can't do it alone! We need two witnesses as well. To cross the wands at the end." She looked anxiously at the two professors, whose faces slowly fell.

"The witnesses! Why didn't you think of that!" snapped one, flinging the other's hands away.

"You could have as well!" his twin retorted. "You were so bent on vengeance that you didn't stop to think!"

"That's not what I'm here for! That's the other one's job! You know, the clever one! I told you we should come back and get Bonded to him!"

"Oh, no we won't! It's just you and I, and to hell with the others. We'll just have to scrounge up two witnesses." He narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "They don't have to be particularly clever or something like that, do they?"

She drew herself up. "Professor Dumbledore will have chosen me for a very good reason!" she insisted.

The two Snapes smirked at each other. "Place and time," said one.

"Then that's how we'll get ours as well," the other one said with a curt nod. "Unless…" His lips curled frighteningly. "There's a student named Abbott, isn't there?"

The first one frowned. "I suppose there is. What of it?"

"Don't you see? Abbott!" he said, as if the name meant something special. He snapped his fingers at Hermione. "You! What relation is this Abbott student to… What were their names again? Something pretentious…" He closed his eyes and pinched his nose, thinking. "Balderdash, Dunderblast…" His eyes snapped open. "Prendergast! That was the man. The woman was a Muggle of no consequence."

"Prendergast Abbott is Hannah's father," Hermione said warily, "and her mother is a Muggle. What do you mean, she 'was' of no consequence?" she asked with an icy premonition.

"Perfect!" exclaimed Snape, ignoring the question. "We'll have her as a witness then. Poetic justice, wouldn't you say?" he asked his mirror image.

"I suppose I can see the attractiveness of the idea," the other one replied, evincing a slight bit of interest. "And for the second witness?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. Whoever you find."

"Me?" the second one exclaimed in surprise.

"Well, you don't think we can very well send _her_ out to fetch them, do you? And one of us has to stay here to make sure she doesn't do something very, very stupid." He fixed Hermione with a baleful eye.

"Don't start the fun without me," the other one warned, directing a very disconcerting leer at Hermione, whose knees went quite rubbery, causing her to clutch at the bed post to steady herself.

"Just hurry!"

And with a swift gait, the effect of which was somewhat marred by the fact that he had to keep one hand on the waistband of his trousers to prevent them sliding down his hips, he strode out the door.

"It's just you and I, then," the remaining Snape said, tapping Hermione's wand against his hand. She didn't like the way he was eyeing her at all, and she began edging around to the far side of the bed.

"I'm not sure I can do the Bonding, you know," she said, keeping a firm eye on the wand. "I may not remember the words." That was nonsense, of course. Hermione Granger, not remember the words to a spell? She'd made anagrams out of it, for crying out loud. But if she could convince him that she couldn't do it, he might agree to go to McGonagall after all. She hoped this was the one who'd said he wanted to go to McGonagall in the first place. Was that the vengeful one, or the sadistic one? She was having a hard time telling them apart.

"We have all the time in the world," he answered smoothly, walking slowly around to her side of the bed. "I'm sure, given enough time, the proper incantation will occur to you."

"What if I say the wrong thing?" she asked, backing further away. "You might end up even worse… You might get split into four!"

He chuckled and continued to advance on her. It was not a pleasant sound. "All the more to plague you with."

She was getting flustered by his pursuit of her. Her mind suddenly empty of arguments, she tried to distract him by asking, "Is that what this is for?" She indicated the bed. "To…" She looked off to the side and said hurriedly, "To activate the Bond?" _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_ She mentally kicked herself. _Now you're going to discuss sex with your professor!_

He smirked. "We won't be having a slumber party. I suppose a bed is not strictly speaking necessary, but the Room must have seen what our intentions were, and provided this to fulfil them." He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Does it meet with your approval?" He seemed to enjoy her discomfiture.

She jerked away, repulsed as much by the innuendo as by his breath. "I—I'm sure it's fine!" she said crossly. "For…whatever it is that you'll be doing."

"It makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it, _Miss_ Granger?" he rumbled smugly, emphasizing her single status. "You are full of enthusiasm when it comes to theory, but the mere thought of the practice turns you into a gibbering first-year. This whole thing was, after all, your idea, was it not?"

"It was you who found the text initially," she pointed out, and then amended, "Well, not _you_ you; the other you."

"Then it is only you who are useless," he noted, one eyebrow raised.

She quickly grabbed the opening. "If I'm so useless, why don't you let me go?" she asked cockily.

His face suddenly took on a look of fury and he shoved her wand into her throat, pressing her down backward onto the bed. "Enough with the banter, child!" he shouted. "You mistake me for someone who enjoys that sort of thing! My source of pleasure lies in an entirely different direction!"

Very frightened, she began babbling, "I'm sorry, I'll do it! I'll re-Bond you, and then you can leave again! It's just that I'm so nervous, I'm afraid I'll do something wrong! Please! Don't hurt me!"

"Do shut up," he growled through clenched teeth. "The infliction of pain is not necessarily the sweetest revenge. Shall I tell you what I plan to do in order to repay you for the many ways in which you make my life unbearable?"

Trembling, Hermione shook her head as much as she dared with the wand still held at her jugular.

Snape leaned over until his face was just inches from hers. "First," he began, as if he were sharing an intimate confidence with her, "I am going to cut out your tongue. That should put an end to your incessant regurgitation of information. And then, I am going to cut off your arms--your right one first" –he tapped it once with the wand-- "and then your left" –tap-- "so that you can no longer flap them in the air for attention. And don't think that you'll be able to traipse off to the matron and have them re-grown, either. Extremities that have been magically severed are impossible to replace," he gloated.

"Unfortunately," he continued, straightening up reluctantly, "we shall have to wait until after the Bonding to carry out my plans for you. I'm afraid you will need all of your faculties in order to properly perform the spell."

"But what good will it possibly do you to hurt me?" Hermione asked, fighting back tears.

Snape straightened up, looking surprised. "Good? It doesn't have to do me any good. It only has to satisfy my thirst for vengeance."

"But you're already getting back at me, for… whatever it is that you think I've done to you," she argued. "You've kidnapped me, held me against my will. I never really did anything to hurt you. Do you really think I deserve to be permanently maimed, just for trying to be a good student?"

Snape narrowed his eyes. "A good student? Does a good student attack her professor?"

"When did I…?" Hermione trailed off as she recalled the incident in the Shrieking Shack. "Oh… right… Yes, all right, I did," she gulped, quickly adding, "but I felt simply awful about it, and we did it to stop you from sending an innocent man to the Dementors, so actually, we stopped you from doing something you probably would have regretted."

Snape scoffed. "Black was no innocent! He deserved the Kiss and worse. Far from regretting it, I would have felt the deepest satisfaction at his fate. So, that is one more time you thwarted my purposes. You and your friends seem to be making a career out of getting in my way."

At the mention of her friends, a light went on for Hermione. "I think it's actually Harry that you're after," she accused him. "You're just using me now as a scapegoat."

"I'll be getting my own back from Potter as well," he ground out between gritted teeth, "don't you worry."

"Will you be happy then? When you've ruined my life and Harry's, will you be happy?" she tossed at him.

He pressed his lips into an even thinner line. "Hardly. Punishing you and Potter will barely scratch the surface. The world is full of people who deserve no less than you, and I will make it my life's goal to see that they get their comeuppance."

"But that's mad! You can't just go around trying to hurt everyone! They'll catch you sooner or later and put you in Azkaban. That's not what you want, I'm certain of it!"

"I do not aim to be caught, and it may not be what some of the others who I had the misfortune to share a body with want, but it most certainly is the only thing that gives me any satisfaction. And it is just I now, you see, he and I, and I daresay he'll be quite amenable to my little plans. Don't you think?"

But Hermione was spared from saying just exactly what she did think, as at that moment the door opened and Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom were shoved in. They were both white as sheets, and Hannah was sobbing quietly; Neville had his arm around her protectively. Behind them was a very bad-tempered Professor Snape.

"I believe I'm beginning to regret this already," he said, closing the door behind them. "Longbottom barely made it up here without wetting himself, and the girl hasn't stopped dripping bodily fluids since she left the Badger Den."

"You'd cry, too, if you'd just found out your mother'd been killed!" Neville said fiercely.

Hermione gasped in dismay and rushed over to Neville and Hannah.

The face of the Snape who had stayed with Hermione fell in disappointment. "Oh, you told her already?" he said to the other one.

"It was too good to keep to myself," he gloated. "Besides, she has to appreciate the full impact of helping the man who killed her mother."

"You're horrible," said the first one with a grin.

"I know," replied the other with a matching smirk.

"You're both awful! Horrid!" cried Hermione. "I wish I'd never tried to help you in the first place! Then you'd still be down in the dungeons, bickering amongst each other, and Dumbledore would have seen to it that the two of you were dealt with properly!"

"What's going on, Hermione?" Neville asked. "Why are there two of him? Is it Polyjuice? And why were you here alone with him… and a bed?"

"It's a long story, but I assure you, that bed has nothing to do with me!" she affirmed fiercely.

"Well, now that we are finally all here…" One of the Snapes glared at Hermione. "I assume we need nothing more to proceed?"

Hermione briefly toyed with the idea of proposing something else that was necessary for the Bond, in order to stall for time, but reconsidered that it was probably better to get it over with and try to get herself, Neville, and Hannah to safety before Snape tried to make good on his threats against her.

"No, we can start," she said woodenly. "I just need to explain to them what they will need to do."

"You have five minutes," Snape said curtly. "And don't try any tricks. I have their wands." He patted the front pocket of his trousers and stepped away to confer amongst himself.

Hermione turned to Hannah and Neville. The poor Hufflepuff girl was shaking inconsolably. Hermione wasn't at all sure that she would be able to follow any directions in this state. She put her arm around the girl's shoulders. "Hannah, I'm so sorry," she began gently. "What happened… It's awful. But we're in danger here, too." She looked up at Neville. "Professor Snape, he isn't… He isn't in his right mind. He had an accident, and now the darkest, cruellest parts of him are acting out their sickest fantasies. We can't undo what's been done, but we can stop him from doing more. The only way is to reunite him by Bonding."

"But why do we have to do it?" Neville asked. "Why aren't the adults taking care of this?"

"They have been, but these two escaped and refuse to be Bonded with the others. They kidnapped me because I witnessed the earlier Bondings, and now they expect me to Bond them. And we need two witnesses, that's why they went and got you."

"I don't think we should do it," Neville said stubbornly. "If he really did …" He glanced at Hannah. "…what he said he did … he should be put in Azkaban. If we help him, we'll only be helping him to do more bad things."

"But don't you see, it wasn't really Professor Snape. It was just this part of him, that he usually has under control." She flicked an eye toward Snape to see if he was watching them, and then added, very quietly, "Once we do the Bonding, we'll have a few minutes when he'll be… incapacitated. If one of us can get out of here then, or get our wands, we may have a chance to stop him for good or get help."

"What are you gabbling about over there?" one of the Snapes demanded unpleasantly. "It doesn't take that long to tell them what they need to do."

Hermione looked pleadingly at Neville, now speaking loudly enough that the Snapes could hear. "Please, Neville, he's threatened to do awful things to me, and probably to you, too, if we don't help him."

Neville locked eyes with Hermione, and an unspoken agreement passed between them. "All right," he said, nodding once.

"Right," she said, enormously relieved. "All you have to do is stand in a circle around them. I'll perform the spell, and at the end, you hold your wand over mine like this—" She crossed her index fingers over each other. "—and say, 'So witnessed'. And then Hannah will do the same thing. All right, Hannah? Can you do that?"

Hannah sniffled and nodded.

"Let's go, then." She took both Neville and Hannah by the hand and led the way back to where the two professors were standing. Her stomach felt like it was twisted in knots, but she forced herself to walk steadily and to look Professor Snape in the eye.

"I want you to promise to let us go when we're done," she said.

Snape looked down his long nose at her. "I don't think you're in any position to be making demands of me."

"Still, I want you to promise it," she insisted.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "You'll be let go… after I'm done with you."

Hermione swallowed over a dry throat. That didn't sound too promising, but it was probably the best she was going to get.

"Neville and Hannah, too."

"Yes, yes, them as well. I can't imagine what use I shall have for three snivelling brats once I have been restored to my full powers."

"Let's get this over with, then," Hermione said quickly. "Join your hands. Neville, you stand here, and Hannah here."

She maneuvered her two friends into their positions whilst the two Snapes took hold of each other's hands.

"We'll need our wands back at this point," she pointed out.

Grumbling a bit, Snape released his counterpart's hands briefly and pulled out her wand from his pocket. He didn't let go when she tried to take it from him, though, instead fixing her with a penetrating glare. "If any of you try anything like you did in the Shrieking Shack, and it doesn't kill me flat out, rest assured, I will pursue you for the rest of your living days and make each and every one of your worst nightmares come true." He paused, then added in a low and lethal voice, "You will beg me to kill you in the end."

Hermione's heart was racing and her stomach threatened to jump right up her throat, but she managed to nod. Snape relinquished his hold on her wand and handed Neville and Hannah back theirs as well.

"And just to be certain," he added, "this will be trained on Abbott's heart." The two Snapes grasped their remaining, stolen wand between their clasped hands as they re-set themselves for the Bonding, making certain that it did indeed point directly at Hannah, who was shaking so hard Hermione was afraid she was going into shock. She needed to get the spell done quickly, and get Hannah out of there.

She focused on the four hands in front of her and tried to remember exactly how Dumbledore's wand had moved as he had touched their hands. Had it been clockwise or counter-clockwise? Did it matter? How far up should she hold her wand? And how did the first part go?

"Begin, Granger!" one of the Snapes snapped. "No tricks!"

Hermione swallowed, closed her eyes, placed her free hand lightly over theirs, and began. She'd heard the words spoken during five Bondings, and she repeated them exactly as Dumbledore had: "Severus Snape, is it your will to Bind your soul to that of Severus Snape?" Hoping she'd said that correctly, she felt her wand knock ever so slightly against the one in the Snapes' hands, and her eyes flew open. "Sorry!" she cried and the same time as he growled, "Watch what you're doing! One more and she hasn't a chance."

"Sorry," she repeated in a whisper, and tried to focus on the spell again. She'd said the first line. Now it was his turn to respond, but he was silently glaring at her. She tried to indicate with a facial expression that he should speak, but he only looked to be getting angrier.

"It's your turn," she prompted him finally in a tentative voice. "You need to say, 'It is.'"

"It is!"

A drop of blue light fell from Hermione's wand and she breathed a little sigh of relief. So far, so good.

"Severus Snape," she continued with slightly more confidence, now speaking to the other professor, "is it your will to Bind your soul to that of Severus Snape?"

"Yes, it is," he said, and another blue droplet squeezed out of Hermione's wand and floated onto the hands below.

Hermione was feeling slightly giddy with excitement. It was actually working. She, Hermione Granger, was actually performing a secret, forbidden spell. Now came the fun part: the incantation. "_Anima comparationis, copulata aeterna_," she enunciated clear and loud, touching each hand in the rhythm of the words. The blue glow spread across them, and she felt the skin tingling beneath her palm.

"Now you, Neville," she said eagerly, her eyes alight with exhilaration. She wiggled her wand in its horizontal position to indicate where he should place his.

He thrust his wand out and formed a cross with hers. "So witnessed," he blurted out. The tingling in her hand got stronger, and it looked as if the blue were creeping in around her fingers.

"Hannah!" she cried, startling the poor girl, who held out her shaking wand to complete the six-pointed star.

"So witnessed," she repeated miserably, and Hermione felt a momentary dizziness from the thrill of it all. She also felt, oddly, the beginning of a yearning within her, the feeling that there was something she'd forgotten, or something that she was missing. Put slightly off by the sensation, she looked at the two Snapes. They were, predictably, glowering at her. However, they were also watching her with calculating expressions.

"Um… that's it," she said, slowly lowering her wand. Neville and Hannah did the same.

"Can we go now?" Neville asked.

One of the Snapes reached out and snatched Hermione's wand. The other grabbed Neville's and Hannah's. "No," they both snapped at the same time.

"You said we could go when we'd done the Bond for you," Hermione reminded them, her voice taking on a whiny edge that she berated herself for.

"You will leave when I say you do. The Bond is not completed yet, as you well know," he said, directing his comment at Hermione. "I am also not entirely convinced that you did it correctly. Something felt different."

Hermione's stomach dropped. "Did it? I… did it just the way Professor Dumbledore did, I'm sure of it. Your hands turned blue and everything. It must be right! And if not, you'll have to go to Professor McGonagall."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he sneered. "I wouldn't put it past you to have bollixed the spell on purpose with exactly that aim in mind. No, you will stay here until we are re-Bonded, no matter how long it takes. _Petrificus Totalus_!" Taking Hermione completely off-guard, her body became stiff and she toppled over, just as had happened in the owlery. And, as then, she found she was still able to move her limbs, although it was a struggle. In short order, Neville and Hannah landed next to her.

Her heart leapt as the professor then turned away, since if he left them like that, only half-paralyzed, they would certainly be able to make their escape when he was distracted with the next stage of the Bonding. She highly doubted that he would be able to keep a wand trained on them while he was… so indisposed. Although she was very curious to see exactly how it was done (she had had to rely solely on her admittedly prodigious imagination up until that point), her personal safety, and especially that of Neville and Hannah, took precedence.

However, her jubilation was short-lived, as the other Snape took the wand and re-cast the spell on all three of them, leaving them very much unable to move anything but their fingers and toes. But maybe… maybe that would be enough.

"Don't go anywhere," Snape teased with a malicious smirk before he joined his companion by the bed. Hermione tried as hard as she could to twist her head around in order to at least witness what happened when the two bodies merged into one (her interest being purely of a magical nature, of course), but found that her neck was completely immobilized.

As soon as she heard the swish of covers and the creak of bedsprings, she hissed, "Neville!" at the same time as she strained to gain purchase on the stone floor with her fingertips and thus slide her body toward the door. The split professor had neglected to silence them, which Hermione could only attribute to their single-mindedness of achieving unification, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Hannah! Try to move yourself with your fingers. Maybe one of us can get to the door before they're done," she whispered as loudly as she dared.

"What are they doing?" Neville whispered back from somewhere just out of her angle of vision.

"Completing the Bond. Can you see them?" she asked eagerly.

"No, they've got the curtains drawn. How long have we got?"

"They took half an hour before, but they might be done much faster…" Or not done at all, she thought, fretting that the Bond might not have worked after all.

A murmur of unmistakeably Snapish voices froze her where she was, but when, after a moment, she heard nothing further, she continued to pull herself across the floor. It was hard work; her fingernails were already broken off and most certainly bleeding. She had initially begun pulling herself feet-first toward the door, as she was already lying in that direction, but she soon found it easier to push her body head-first in the opposite direction and try to get turned around. She was making good progress in her turn; now she could see both Neville and Hannah, as well as the bed, which did, unfortunately, have the curtains drawn. The sounds emanating therefrom were quite intriguing, and at one point, a groan (of pain or pleasure, it was impossible to tell which) caused her to stop again suddenly with a twisty feeling in her stomach and the beginnings of another yearning, as if a far-away lover were trying to find her across a foggy lake. It was boggling and more than a bit disorienting, but then it was past, and she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.

Neville, red in the face, and huffing, was determinedly inching his way along just as she was. Hannah, crying again yet making a brave attempt at swallowing down the sobs, wasn't far behind. How long had it been? Hermione worried. Five minutes? An hour? It seemed like miles to the door, although she could have covered the distance in perhaps three strides.

Another groan emitted from the bed, followed by a loud "Damn!" and some incoherent swearing and scuffling. Neville was now a hand's breadth away from the door. All he needed to do was turn himself enough to pry it open. Hermione frantically pushed herself forward, willing Hannah to move faster. Even if they got the door open, there would be no one waiting to help them on the other side. They were all the way up in a little-used corner of the castle, and it was surely long past curfew by now. There was little to no chance that a Prefect would happen to patrol this corridor exactly at that moment, and if they called out, Snape would come and haul them back in (or take worse revenge on them) long before anyone who might hear them could make it up there.

There! Now Neville had the door cracked open. And… wonder of wonders! Although it had opened into the room before, it was now opening out. That meant they could push themselves out straight away, rather than having to move back again in order to get the door open far enough. The Room must have sensed the intensity of their need and, while unable to override Snape's requirements, still been able to help them in this small way. Cool air trickled in over Hermione's sweat-streaked brow, and she cried silent tears of relief as Neville got his head out into the corridor.

Just then, the curtains on the bed were ripped back and two half-dressed Potions masters tumbled out. Several things happened at once. In no particular order, Neville began singing the Hogwarts hymn at the top of his voice; one of the Snapes charged them, wand drawn and shirtless; the other one scrambled after him, trousers unbuckled and bellowing obscenities; and Hermione felt, with all the force of being hit full-on in the solar plexus, that _he_, terrible and raging and flabby and absolutely _awful _– through it all she retained an awareness of his awfulness – awful as he was, _he_ was what she was missing; _he_ was what would make her complete – inexplicable as it was, for it was completely illogical.

And then someone was pulling at her feet, and someone else was singing along with Neville, someone up above her, in a hair-raising, screeching, off-key voice, and that same someone was pelting the lot of them, Neville and Hannah and herself and the Snapes, with candle stubs, and then Filch was there, and Mrs Norris was walking right over her, was actually standing on her chest, of all things, and she heard Snape shouting something about detention and Peeves cackling about everyone being in a load of trouble, but the good thing was, she wasn't dead, and the even better thing was, it sounded like more people were coming, and in short order, she had been released from the spell, and Professor McGonagall was there, and she started crying all over again, not just because they were safe, but because she couldn't see Snape anymore.

End chapter nine.


	10. Chapter 10: You Saw This One Coming

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter ****Ten**

**You Saw This One Coming, Didn't You**

Hermione's mind was racing. They'd brought her straight to the hospital wing, along with Neville and Hannah. There had been a terrible hullabaloo, but Madam Pomfrey, with Professor McGonagall's stern support, had managed to shoo out everyone but the patients themselves. Hermione had been quite anxious watching the backs of Professor Snape disappear, and the inexplicable feeling of being bereft of something precious had continued throughout the night, despite the sleeping draught Madam Pomfrey had coaxed into her.

She was Bonded to Professor Snape! The realization both disgusted and thrilled her. Objectively speaking, it was horrendous, of course, especially since it was the most offensive and least desirable aspects of him that were concerned. This she knew. But at the same time, she felt within her an indescribable longing that could only be stilled by running straight to him as soon as she was released from the ward. What exactly would happen at that point, and how exactly he would fill the void in her, she couldn't say for sure. It wasn't that she lusted after him – in fact, the thought of a physical consummation of the Bond filled her with nervous dread – and certainly not that she loved him – her emotions being strangely unchanged, she both feared and pitied him -- but he was the focus of her every thought. Harry, Ron, Crookshanks, her parents, her schoolwork, everything that had been the focus and pleasure of her life up to this point – they were as nothing. Snape. Only Snape was important.

And so it was with feverish anticipation that she awaited the dawn, imagining a thousand times the moment when she could be united with her missing half. Finally, when she was on the verge of disobeying Madam Pomfrey's strict instructions and sneaking out of the infirmary to seek him out herself, the familiar matronly form appeared at the far end of the long hall, her crisp white robes appearing grey in the dim morning light.

Hermione sat up eagerly. In the next bed, Hannah still slept fitfully, the sheets bunched around her and trailing halfway down onto the floor. Next to her, at the sound of approaching footsteps, Neville stirred and blinked his eyes groggily.

"Well now. How are we all this morning?" Madam Pomfrey asked cheerfully as she arrived at the foots of their beds. "Oh, poor dear," she said and her brow furrowed sympathetically as her gaze fell on Hannah. "She does need her sleep." A quick movement of her wand and a brief shimmer in the air around Hannah's bed ensured that the sound of them speaking would not wake her.

"Now for you, Miss Granger." The nurse's face brightened as she approached the side of Hermione's bed. "It looks like that abrasion has all healed over," she noted with satisfaction, inspecting the spot on Hermione's cheek and lip where Snape's boot had ground grit into the skin. "Now let's take a look at your hands, shall we?" Pomfrey picked up Hermione's hands and examined the fingertips carefully, which had been bloody and broken the previous night. "That looks much better," she said with satisfaction. "Feel better, do they?"

"Yes, much," Hermione agreed, although she had been (and was still) so distracted that she had hardly noticed either the pain or the relief of the nail- and skin-regrowing unguent. "May I go now?"

Madam Pomfrey looked at her in surprise. "Oh, my goodness, no, not yet!" she exclaimed. "Yes, physically you are healed, but my dear, we cannot be too careful where magical injuries are concerned! You were all suffering from a Full-Body Bind when you were found. True, it was inexpertly applied, but that is all the more reason to keep you under observation. Amateur magic is the most likely to cause unexpected side effects."

Hermione felt a slight panic well up in her. She couldn't be kept from Professor Snape any longer! "But I feel fine!" she protested, threw the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Look—"

She was about to stand when Madam Pomfrey gently but firmly pressed her back onto the mattress. "All in good time, Miss Granger. Please trust me. If you do not comply," she added mildly but with a determined glint in her eye, "I shall be forced to restrain you."

Hermione lay back unhappily and watched while the nurse went to check on Neville. She seriously considered trying to sneak out behind her back whilst she was distracted, but with some effort of will was able to restrain herself. What was she thinking? She had no idea where Snape was. In fact, he had very likely either absconded once again to parts unknown, or else had consented to be re-Bonded by Professor McGonagall and been completely re-integrated. If so, what of the Bond between herself and the two partial personalities? It had never been physically completed. Would it fade eventually? The reasonable part of her thought it likely would, and until then, she just needed to grit her teeth and bear it out. Still, if she could only see him… She flopped over onto her side, scowling, and pulled the sheet up firmly under her chin. Maybe she should ask Madam Pomfrey to restrain her after all.

The next hour was like slow torture; when she wasn't trying to banish thoughts of Snape from her mind, she racked her brains for how she might have botched the Bonding. She'd been certain that she'd done it just as Dumbledore had. The positions, the witnesses, the incantation, the wand movements… all picture-perfect. Maybe Snape had done something wrong, or Neville, or Hannah. But then why should only she have been affected? Or… A chilling thought occurred to her, making her throat close up. Maybe Hannah and Neville were also Bonded to Snape! A raging jealousy overcame her. They couldn't! He was hers!

Hermione jumped out of bed. By this time, Hannah had awoken and Neville was sitting on the edge of her bed, talking quietly to her. Hermione had been completely oblivious to them up to that point, so obsessed was she with her thoughts of Snape.

"You can't have him!" she growled, grabbing Hannah by the material on the back of her hospital frock.

Both Hannah and Neville turned to Hermione, stunned. Hannah's eyes were red and it was clear that she had been crying.

Neville was the first to recover. "What are you doing, Hermione?" he demanded, prying her fingers apart to free Hannah. "What do you mean, she can't have me?" He seemed embarrassed by the insinuation.

"Not you! Snape! She can't have him! And neither can you! He's mine!"

Hannah looked at Neville, frightened, and moved closer to him, away from Hermione.

"What are you --?" Neville began. Then his face cleared. "Oh, you mean to get revenge on him. I'd love to, believe me. After what he did …" His face darkened. "The man isn't human."

"I'm not –" Hermione began, but she wasn't able to explain further, as Madam Pomfrey was bustling over, alerted by the raised voices.

"Miss Granger!"she scolded. "What are you doing out of bed? And you, too, Mr Longbottom! Tut, tut, back you go, the two of you," she said, shooing them to their respective places. "We'll just have a spot of breakfast and then the Headmaster wants to talk to you."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked eagerly, her jealousy momentarily forgotten in wake of the surprising news. "He's back?"

"Just got in, as I hear. He'll want to get a full report from all of you, I should think."

Hermione considered this new bit of information as she hastily slurped down the gruel that had been placed before her. If the Headmaster was back, then surely Snape had been dealt with. Bonded and bound. Signed, sealed and delivered. Wrung out and hung up to dry. And once again, where did that leave her? But never mind. Dumbledore would have all the answers when she spoke to him.

She did not have to wait long, for barely had the breakfast dishes disappeared than a tall, bearded figure graced them with his presence. And accompanying him was Snape! Hannah screamed a little, but Hermione bore her no mind, instead ripping the sheet back and barreling down the length of the hall, much to the surprise and consternation of all present. She stopped just short of throwing herself on the unsuspecting professor, who had actually drawn one arm up, Dracula-like, to shield himself from the onslaught. It wasn't Snape. Well, it was, but not her Snape. It was one of the others. Most likely the insecure one, judging from his reaction.

"Oh. It's just you," Hermione said in a small and very dejected voice. "I thought you were him." She looked behind him to see if there were any other Snapes in tow, but the hall was empty.

"And a good morning to you, Miss Granger," interjected Professor Dumbledore with a chuckle.

"Where is he?" she asked the Headmaster anxiously, ignoring his salutation. "He's left again, hasn't he?"

"To whom might you be referring?" Dumbledore inquired politely.

"Snape!" Hermione threw herself upon the elderly wizard and grabbed fistfuls of his star-spangled blue robes. "The other one, the one that was here last night!" She clarified in a gasping sort of wild-eyed whisper: "The cruel one!"

"Headmaster," Snape ventured tentatively, all the while keeping one nervous eye on Hermione, "it looks like our surmise might be correct."

"Yes, yes, I can see that, Severus," Dumbledore concurred, gently plucking Hermione's hands out of his beard. "Poppy!" he greeted the matron, who was just joining them. "If you would be so kind…" He gestured at the distraught girl.

"Miss Granger!" Pomfrey scolded, pulling her away from the Headmaster. "I've reminded you about staying in bed. Now let's get you settled back in and then you all can have a nice chat. Come along, then. Now, see there," she said reproachfully as she guided Hermione back to her bed. "You've upset Miss Abbott."

Indeed, Hannah was now sobbing quietly, her forehead resting on her drawn-up knees. Neville was standing awkwardly beside her, handing her tissues.

"It wasn't her," he blurted out. "She had the right idea, going after him like she did. It's him!" He looked accusingly at Snape, who tried to hide behind Dumbledore. "How you can let him just walk around after what he did—"

"Ah, I begin to understand," Dumbledore said. "You are under the impression that this" –he indicated Professor Snape— "is the man with whom, I gather, you were all found last night. An easy error to make. But, as Miss Granger correctly recognized upon getting a closer look, this is one of his doppelgangers. I trust you are already aware of the situation in which Professor Snape most unfortunately finds himself?" he asked Neville.

"Well…" Neville continued to eye Snape mistrustfully. "Hermione did say something about him not being in his right mind, something like a split personality. But that doesn't excuse what he did! He… He said he'd killed Mrs. Abbott! And he kidnapped Hannah and me and threatened to kill us, too!"

"Unfortunately, that is all too true," Dumbledore admitted. "I am very sorry, Miss Abbott. But it was not the man standing before you who committed those acts. It was, for want of a better term, the 'cruel one', I believe you called him, Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded and cried out, "Oh, sir, do tell me where he is! I can hardly bear it any longer!"

"Bear what?" Dumbledore asked.

"The Bond! I Bonded myself to him last night," she admitted miserably.

There was a shocked gasp from both Neville and Madam Pomfrey, accompanied by a renewed outburst of tears from Hannah.

"Ah," Dumbledore said with satisfaction. "Now we come to the crux of the matter. That is exactly why I wished to speak to you. The three of you, to be more exact." He nodded to Neville and Hannah as well. "It seems, there was an attempt made last night to Bond Professor Snape to himself, which did not end as planned. I have spoken to both of the gentlemen involved."

At this admission, Hermione's heart leapt – then he might well still be in the castle! – but Dumbledore held up his hand to stay her comments, continuing with: "All in good time, Miss Granger. For the time being, we – Severus and I – were hoping that you might be able to shed some light on the matter. Please explain exactly what occurred."

"He abducted us at wandpoint!" Neville spoke up indignantly. "We were on our way to The Sett when he jumped out and threatened us if we didn't go with him… He said he'd k-- killed Hannah's mother and wouldn't hesitate to kill us, too." He then went on to tell how they had been brought up to the Room of Requirement and forced to participate in the Bond, and about their narrow escape.

"Well, that fills in a bit, doesn't it," Dumbledore said. "It must have been a terrible ordeal for you," he said sympathetically. "I assume Miss Abbott would tell us much the same story. I don't think we need to press her for any further details. Am I correct in assuming, then, that neither of you have experienced any, shall we say, unusual feelings towards your captor?" He addressed the question to Neville, as if he were now also Hannah's spokesperson.

"What do you mean, sir?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth as if to give an answer, but closed it again and turned to Snape. "I'm not quite sure, to be honest," he admitted. "I've never experienced it myself. Severus? Perhaps you can elucidate."

Snape looked uncomfortable, but nevertheless answered, staring stoically straight ahead: "A… yearning. A feeling of incompleteness. An overwhelming desire to be with the … other. An inability to rid one's mind of said person. An obsession."

"Yes…" Hermione sighed, gazing at Snape with wide eyes. "That's it exactly."

"I'm still not sure what you're talking about, Professor," said Neville.

Dumbledore nodded kindly. "That's fine, Mr Longbottom. You won't have been affected, then, nor will Miss Abbott, hm? But Miss Granger." He turned to Hermione with a calculating look. "You said earlier that you had Bonded yourself to Professor Snape. Would you care to explain how you managed such a feat?"

Hermione was still staring at Snape. He understood exactly how she felt, of course, because he had also gone through a Bond. She felt at once a certain camaraderie towards him. For his part, he seemed to be studiously ignoring her, possibly in order to discourage her from making any further advances.

"Miss Granger?" Professor Dumbledore prompted.

"What? Oh, oh yes. The Bond." She tore her gaze away from Snape and attempted to order her thoughts. She then rehearsed exactly what she had done and said, ending with, "I didn't realize that anything had gone wrong until they came out and there were still two of them and I—" She swallowed convulsively. "I felt like they, that is, he, was exactly what I needed to make my life complete. And I haven't been able to stop thinking of him since." She looked anxiously at Snape to see his reaction.

Snape cleared his throat in an embarrassed way and looked anywhere but at Hermione.

Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully. "Interesting. You say that you placed your hand over theirs before beginning the incantation. When you say 'over', do you mean like this, in the air" –he demonstrated with his hands, holding one an inch or so above the other—"or did you actually contact their skin, like this?" He laid one hand directly on top of the other.

"Like that. I laid my hand on theirs. It felt all tingly." Her stomach dropped. "You mean – I shouldn't have touched them? Is that what drew me into the Bond?" She felt incredibly stupid.

"Possibly," Dumbledore mused. "Although there is a verbal element to the spell as well, and if you did not agree to Bond yourself—"

"Oh, I didn't!" Hermione swore. "Nothing of the sort!"

"Hm. Be that as it may, the aberration may have simply been enough to interfere with the Bond enough such that it could not be completed, despite the, as I hear, repeated and vigorous attempts throughout the night of the two participants to consummate it."

"Headmaster," Snape said, looking a touch paler than usual, "at this point, it does not seem to be of much import exactly what led to the state of things as they are. It is likely irreconstructible, just as the chain of events which led to my split is forever lost. Nevertheless, both situations must be dealt with."

"Yes, agreed, Severus, but the question is: Is the Bond valid? If not, if she is only experiencing some side effects, it may well fade or easily be undone. If, however, the Bond was truly made between herself and the other two, that would explain why they were unable to complete the Bond themselves: She will need to be involved in the final ritual. And we are faced with a much more serious situation."

"But—You can undo it, right?" Hermione pleaded. "There must be a way to undo it!" Please, please don't make me have to do that with Professor Snape, she thought. Much less with two of him!

Dumbledore fixed Hermione with a sober look. "There is a ritual for unBonding, but it is dangerous, and, needless to say, Dark. As the unBonding in effect rips the two souls apart, there is no small trauma inflicted on both parties. The division does not always end cleanly, according to the scant sources on the matter. I would not wish to jeopardize either of you in such a manner, if it is not absolutely necessary."

_Not necessary__?_ Hermione thought indignantly. What did he think? That she'd go the rest of her life Bonded to Snape? Ha, ha.

"To complicate matters further," the Headmaster continued, "Professor Snape has already been split, multiple times. To put him through another ritual that would tear at the fragile state of his self even further would, at the moment, be too risky by far."

"So… Are you saying I have to just live with it?" Hermione's voice went up a couple of registers. "I can't! I can't concentrate on my schoolwork like this! I can't function, constantly wanting to be together with him! I couldn't even sleep last night, and that was with a Sleeping Draught."

"It will all work out, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said soothingly. "As I said, we are not entirely certain that the Bond took. I think we should give it twenty-four hours. If, by then, neither you nor the two Professors involved are feeling any different, we shall have to discuss our next options. If it is any consolation to you, they are experiencing similar anguish as you." He allowed himself a smile and a wink.

With a few more words of comfort and consolation to Hannah and Neville, Profesor Dumbledore quit the infirmary, but not before giving instructions to Madam Pomfrey. Neville and Hannah were to be allowed to leave as soon as they felt able; Hannah to be delivered to the safe care of her father, who was unharmed, and Neville back to his daily routine.

Hermione, on the other hand, was to be kept under strict observation and restricted to the hospital wing until the evening, at which time she was to report to the Headmaster's office.

As she watched the two men leave, Hermione fell into a state of despair. For how could she make it through another day without Snape? And, if it came to that, how could she make it through the rest of her life Bonded to him?

--/--/-/-/--/--

_Author's note: A badger's home is called a "sett". We never hear in canon how the Hufflepuff quarters at Hogwarts are referred to__, although we do hear of Gryffindor Tower, Ravenclaw Tower, and the Slytherin dungeon. So since the Hufflepuff animal mascot is the badger, I thought it appropriate to call the Hufflepuff area of the castle The Sett. Someone else has likely also thought of this. What can I say, great minds think alike. :-D_


	11. Chapter 11: Similar Anguish

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

_Author's Note: Just as a reminder, here are the current Snapes:_

_The vengeful and sadistic ones (bonded to Hermione)_

_The smart-insecure one_

_The teacher one_

_The self-righteous one_

_The self-preserving one_

**Chapter Eleven**

**Similar Anguish**

_Granger . . . _

_Granger . . . _

_Gran—_ 'Stop it!' Snape protested silently against the unbidden thoughts. _Granger . . . Hermione . . . Perfection in a swotty, skinny, gratingly self-righteous Gryffindor package …_

"Avada Kedavra me now," he groaned.

"Only if you do me first," his companion replied miserably.

The first Snape tore at his hair and rolled his eyes until the whites showed. The other one banged his head repeatedly against the floor. He was lying face-down on it already, so it wasn't a great stretch.

"If I can't have her in the next five seconds, my head is going to explode," he mumbled into the stone.

"I get her first," the other one growled, now digging his nails into his scalp. "I hate her. Hate, hate, hate!"

"Not as much as I do." The first one groaned and rolled onto his back. "Only she could have screwed things up this royally. I simply … must … have her!" He jumped up and ran to the door, pulling frantically at the handle.

The other Snape sprang up as well and joined him, both banging on the door and cursing Dumbledore, McGonagall, and all the other Snapes for having locked them in, and Hermione for having got them into the mess in the first place (the fact that they had caused both of their splits in the first place conveniently escaping their notice).

Momentarily, the door was pulled open, causing them both to land in a Snapeheap, nose-to-toe with a pair of polished witch's boots.

"Really, Severus," Professor McGonagall said disdainfully. "Do show some decorum."

The first Snape tried to scrabble past her, but she deftly stopped him with a flick of her wand. "Granger—" he gasped, fighting against the paralysis that was gripping him.

"Yes, yes," she replied testily, meanwhile blocking the second Snape from likewise escaping, "we're going to see her now. Although how Albus means to set this mess aright, I cannot begin to fathom," she added.

--/--/-/-/--/--

When the door to the Headmaster's office opened and Hermione set eye on her Bond-mates, it was as if nothing else existed. She ran to them, ducking under the outstretched arms of Professor McGonagall, who was attempting to catch her before she reached them.

"Oh, Professor," she sighed, practically in tears at the flood of endorphins now coursing through her body.

Two sets of arms encircled her, pressing her between two firm chests. She barely heard the mixed insults and expressions of satisfaction emanating from the twin wizards, so enthralled was she by the mere sound of his voices.

"Albus! Do something!" cried Professor McGonagall sharply.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled from his seat behind his desk. "I think it quite charming, to tell you the truth."

"Charming!" McGonagall protested. "They are both – all three – under the influence of a powerful Dark magic. There is nothing 'charming' about it."

"It's appalling, is what it is," one of the other Snapes (they were all present) drawled haughtily. "We would never sink to such behaviour."

"Stick it in your ear," one of Hermione's Snapes shot back, tucking her head under his chin. "Do you think I want this? I would like nothing better than to rid the world of this little upstart for what she has visited on us… if it weren't for the fact that I can't seem to function without her!"

Hermione whimpered as she was squeezed a bit too firmly. "You're hurting me."

"Good," the other Snape holding her purred, now pulling her more toward his side. "Pain is good."

"Bah!" the vengeful Snape exclaimed, relinquishing his hold on Hermione. "This is giving me no relief. I still feel an unbearable emptiness!"

"As do I," conceded the sadistic one.

"Me, too," Hermione agreed unhappily. "I guess it's something other than a Bond after all."

One of the other Snapes snickered.

Hermione looked over at him and stamped her foot crossly. "What's so funny? If we don't know what it is that's making us feel this way, it'll be that much harder to fix it, and that much harder to fix you." She looked around at the others. Insecure-Snape (she couldn't help thinking of him that way, although she knew he was just as much the smart personality) was looking rather sickly. The one who had remonstrated them for their public display of – well, not affection, exactly, but perhaps acknowledgment – glared quailingly.

The snickering Snape smirked. "That _is_ the Bond, you silly girl."

Hermione looked at Dumbledore, obviously confused. "But… Then we should feel complete when we're together, shouldn't we?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, Miss Granger. And you will. As soon as the Bond is completed."

Professor McGonagall drew in her breath sharply. "Albus, you can't—"

Understanding, accompanied by a feeling of impending horror, began to dawn on Hermione. Of course. The Bond had not been consummated yet. A space had been opened in each of their souls, which could only be filled by the other. Until the round peg went into the square hole, so to speak, they would continue to feel incomplete.

Vengeful- and Sadistic-Snape had clearly cottoned on as well. "Right, let's go, then," Sadistic-Snape said grimly and grabbed Hermione's hand, pulling her toward the door through which the various Bond-pairs had previously disappeared to complete the ritual.

"No!" Hermione cried, trying to escape from his grip.

"Yes!" Sadistic-Snape insisted, joined by Vengeful-Snape.

"Please, Professor," Hermione appealed over her shoulder to Professor Dumbledore. "Didn't you say there was a way to unBond us?"

"Mm-hm." Dumbledore nodded.

Hermione managed to wrench herself free.

"Then by all means, do it," the self-righteous Snape urged. "We can certainly do without an extraneous Bond to a half-wit like her."

"It's too dangerous," Insecure-Snape said, who then looked distinctly uncomfortable at having called attention to himself.

"Nonsense!" the previously snickering Snape retorted. "What could be dangerous about extricating them from an unwanted ball and chain like her?"

Insecure-Snape looked at Dumbledore, apparently hoping that he would answer, but the Headmaster deferred.

Insecure-Snape cleared his throat and stared at a point on the desk as he responded. "They have already been split, Bonded, and re-split. They are now in the midst of a partial Bond. The fractions of our soul which they possess are in a precarious state, like an open wound, if you will. To attempt to sever the bond now in the hopes of closing the wound would likely have the opposite result and tear it further apart. As to what we would be left with, I hesitate to venture."

"And me?" Hermione asked tremulously.

Insecure-Snape raised his eyes to look at her. "Unknown. However, as your soul is whole and intact, the outcome would probably be less traumatic for you."

"Probably…" Hermione echoed softly, her eyes never leaving his. She might be all right. But then again, she might not. What would that mean? And could she in good conscience agree to a course of action that might irreparably damage, in effect kill, two parts of Snape's soul?

"I'm sorry I can't be more helpful." He seemed to genuinely regret it. Hermione nodded in dumb agreement.

"And that is why I recommend continuing with the Bond," Professor Dumbledore said. "—for the time being," he hastened to add, seeing Minerva's incensed look. "It will be the safest way to get Severus back together. Once he is his old self again, we can contemplate an unBonding."

"But…" Hermione began fearfully. "That would mean that I have to… With him … No, with both of them …" All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room and she groped blindly for a chair.

McGonagall quickly reached over and steadied her, then guided her into a seat. "Albus!" she scolded after Conjuring a glass of water for the young woman. "See what a state she's in. You can't possibly expect her to … you know … with the two of them! Just think what they'd do to her!"

Professor Dumbledore looked at the two professors in question and registered their gleeful and lecherous smirks. "Hmmm…" he mused. "Yes, I do see your point. Well. Suggestions, anyone?" He looked around expectantly at the other Snapes.

"It is her duty. She must comply," droned Teaching-Snape. "Put her under Imperius if necessary."

"I say we should attempt the unBonding anyway," put in Self-Righteous-Snape. "It will be no great tragedy if she or the other two are somehow lost in the process. Better to put as many of us back together as possible without her."

"Bite your tongue!" exclaimed Self-Preserving-Snape. "We can't afford to lose a single one of us. I agree with the Imperius."

Hermione looked to McGonagall for hope, any hope, of escaping the fate that seemed to be closing in on her: Imperius'ed to have relations with two copies of Professor Snape, and the two most cruel ones, at that. But her Head of House was standing beside her, white-lipped, and Hermione thought she was hearing things when the next words out of Professor McGonagall's mouth were: "As much as I hate to say it, I agree. The Imperius will alleviate her fear and allow her to remain emotionally distanced from the proceedings. She will barely realize what is happening. But they must be Imperius'ed as well!" she added. "They must be charged to perform what must be done, but not to harm her in any way!"

"The deal's off!" said Sadistic-Snape. "If I can't even have a bit of fun—"

"Count me out as well," said Vengeful-Snape. "We'll do it the old-fashioned way or not at all."

"They aren't the ones that need coercion. She is," pointed out Teaching-Snape.

"This has nothing to do with coercion!" Professor McGonagall said, and was on the verge of saying a good deal more of what was on her mind when Professor Dumbledore held up his hands for silence.

"Now, now. No one will be forced into anything. If Miss Granger and the others do not wish to proceed, I understand completely. We will just have to leave them as they are. In time, I feel certain they will learn to deal with their situations."

This pronouncement was met with protests from all sides, including Hermione. She most certainly did not want to learn to deal with a constant and incessant longing for Snape; she would rather just get it over with quickly, if some relief were promised at the end, and if there were some way to guarantee her safety throughout. She just needed a bit of time to get used to the idea. She was about to say so, when Insecure-Snape spoke up again.

"I think I have a suggestion," he said in a small voice, still staring at a spot on the desk before him.

The Headmaster called for silence once again and asked Insecure-Snape to go on.

"I could go with them." He looked up quickly to ascertain reactions, but as no one had objected so far, he continued. "If the others agreed, and Miss Granger, too, I could help her through it and make sure that she didn't get hurt, and that everything happens as it's supposed to happen." As silence greeted this, he looked back down and mumbled, "Never mind, it's a stupid idea."

"But not at all, Severus, not at all!" Dumbledore looked positively astounded. "I simply never would have expected it. You would act as a sort of midwife, shall we say, to the process, ensuring that all parties are satisfied with the result. Excellent. What say you?" He looked around expectantly to the others.

It seemed that no one much knew what to say, but after a bit, there were grudging nods and shrugs of acceptance.

Hermione considered. Not one, not two, but three Snapes would be present with her while she lay there, exposed… _She_ _needed Snape. There were no two ways about it._ She wasn't even sure how the mechanics of it would work. Would she have to do it twice? And all the while, the others would be looking on. _But it would be Snape, her other half. She had nothing to hide from him, after all._ It was… disgusting in a prurient sort of way. Insecure-Snape would make sure they didn't hurt her. Maybe she wouldn't even have to look at them. If she just kept her eyes firmly shut the entire time and imagined that she was undergoing a medical procedure. In, out, finished. That's all it would take. Just a few seconds. And then she would be rid of this astoundingly resilient fixation. She still didn't know what exactly it was about him that she found so fascinating, but she'd noticed that it had dripped over onto her perception of the other Snapes as well. Not that they were half as good as _her_ Snapes, but still, there was a certain something… She continued to talk herself into it mentally even as she nodded shyly.

Vengeful-Snape and Sadistic-Snape exchanged another one of those dangerous looks that the others really should have learned to recognize by now, then slyly smiled and agreed as well.

"Fine." Professor Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. "We will await you with baited breath. If you need any assistance, don't hesitate to call."

"What, now?" Hermione squeaked, shrinking down into her chair.

"No time like the present," Sadistic-Snape said greasily and started toward the door.

"I'll need the wand," Insecure-Snape mentioned to Teaching-Snape, who grumbled but dug it out of his pocket.

"What, now?" Hermione squeaked again, even higher.

"I'm sure everything will be fine, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, but did not manage to sound entirely reassuring.

"You'll need to get _out_ of the chair." Vengeful-Snape yanked on Hermione's hand.

Hermione cringed and appealed to no one in particular, "As in, right _now_?"

"Oh, for God's sake!" Sadistic-Snape took Hermione's other hand and, together with Vengeful-Snape, pulled her to her feet.

"Professor!" she cried over her shoulder and sought out Insecure-Snape, a look of panic on her face.

"This is never going to work," Teacher-Snape predicted. "You see, he has no authority to enforce his will over those two. Maybe I should go." He held out his hand to have the wand returned.

Insecure-Snape, deflated, was about to hand it over when Hermione said, "No!"

All eyes turned to her. "I mean… I want him to come with me," she said, indicating Insecure-Snape. "I don't think the rest of you like me much, and if I have to go in there, I'd like to at least have someone with me who I feel some sort of connection to. Not the Bond. I mean an understanding. Strange as it may sound, I think he's the only one who understands me." She removed her hands from the Snapes' grips and straightened her back. "I can do this," she said under her breath. "I can. I can do this."

She steeled herself and made to walk toward the door when Insecure-Snape said, "Wait." He said it softly, gently almost.

She stopped, not trusting herself to turn around. If she didn't keep focused on the door she might just run away.

"Let us have a moment alone first," Insecure-Snape said.

"Oh, no you don't!" Vengeful-Snape said. "You just want to do her first. She belongs to us."

"I do not want to 'do her first'," Insecure-Snape contradicted. "I merely want to prepare her, mentally, for what will happen. It wouldn't do anyone much good for her to bolt at the sight of your 'equipment'."

"It is rather impressive," Vengeful-Snape concurred.

"Don't flatter yourself, it's no better than ours," Self-Righteous-Snape sneered.

"Oh, all right, very well, you go ahead and give her the talk about the birds and the bees," Vengeful-Snape relented with a wave of his hand.

"And while you're at it," Sadistic-Snape leered, "get her naked and tie her up a bit."

Ignoring their jibes, Insecure-Snape got up and stood before Hermione. "Shall we?" he asked.

Feeling all jittery in her stomach and weak in her knees, Hermione gulped and nodded, then followed Professor Snape through the green door.

--/--/-/-/--/--

_Author's Note: Ack! What to do now! This is currently rated T (PG-13), so I would really appreciate it if you told me if you would prefer it to continue with that rating, or if you would prefer that the next chapter be rated M (R). For sex, obviously. I'm not great at writing smut, but I'll give it a shot in the name of art. I can also do the scene with them together with a T rating, so it's not like that scene will be cut. Just not as detailed. Any other comments are welcome as well, of course. Thanks!_


	12. Chapter 12: Behind the Green Door

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter Twelve**

**Behind the Green Door**

As Hermione entered the antechamber, she experienced a moment of déja-vu, followed by a brief spurt of vertigo: For a moment, she thought that she was back in the Room of Requirement. There was the same four-poster bed with the same heavy drapes, the flagstones on the floor the same ones she had torn her fingers on, pushing herself to freedom. Had she somehow been tricked? Was she back with the mean Snapes? She whirled around to the professor beside her, her heart in her throat, but his bearing was unmistakeable: It was the insecure one. He couldn't even look at her.

She realized then with a flash of wry humour that the Room of Requirement had simply recreated this chamber for the Snapes' unsuccessful attempt at re-Bonding themselves. Still, she shrank back against the wall, trying not to look at the bed. In just a short while, she would be there, with them. Her heart was beating very fast and she had a million butterflies in her stomach. She wasn't exactly scared; she knew that Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were in the next room, and that she only needed to scream to bring them running on the double.

And she had her secret ally, who was even now approaching the bed and testing the mattress. Probably making sure it was sturdy enough for three. Oh, God, Hermione thought, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the wall. Three. They were really going to do this.

"Well." Snape cleared his throat. "Everything seems to be in order here." He was walking around the room, twitching curtains and peering into cupboards.

"Fine," Hermione said in a small voice.

"Yes," he agreed.

"Good." She clenched her hands into fists and wished he'd get on with whatever he had to tell her before the others came in. She was already finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than Snape. Her Snapes.

If it hadn't been for the Bond, of course, she would never have agreed to it, but her feelings were so muddled by the desire to be with Snape that she found herself actually eager to get on with it. She wasn't disgusted by the prospect of him being naked in front of her; in fact, she was more than a bit curious. On the other hand, she was feeling very insecure about having to be naked in front of him. He was certain to make fun of her. She tried to recall which underwear she had on.

Snape cleared his throat again and flicked his gaze toward her, then immediately looked away. Abruptly, he seized a chair and spun it around toward her. "Don't you want to sit down?" he offered, a bit awkwardly.

She did, in fact; she was feeling a bit dizzy.

"Well then," he resumed, once she was settled. He was standing somewhere behind her, but she didn't turn around.

"Did you… Was there something you wanted to tell me? About the Bonding?" she prompted when he didn't immediately speak.

"Ah, yes. The Bonding." Finally, Snape took a deep breath and spoke, quickly and without inflection, as though he was reciting a text. As he described exactly what they were going to have to do, Hermione's first reaction was disbelief (she hadn't known such a position was even possible), then embarrassment. It would apparently be a bit more involved than she had thought at first. He seemed to have everything figured out, though, including angles, trajectories, and timing, and she wondered just how long he'd been planning this particular scenario. Finally, however, he came to the end of his lecture and, in his best teaching voice, asked: "Do you have any questions?"

Of course she did. First and foremost, how they were going to prevent the Marquis de Sade and his twin, the Avenging Angel, from turning her into Exhibit A. And so she asked, still staring straight ahead: "What about protection?"

"Protection…" Snape repeated slowly. "Yes, of course. I hadn't thought of that." He sounded sheepish, which Hermione thought a bit strange. After all, the entire reason he had volunteered to accompany her was for her protection. He had taken the trouble to map the entire tryst out, virtually with diagrams and cue cards, yet he hadn't spared a thought on how to keep her safe from Thing One and Thing Two?

"I… suppose we will have to ask Madam Pomfrey for a potion," he admitted with reluctance. "I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty with the Contraceptus Charm – not that I'd trust myself to cast it in my reduced state." His discomfiture was all too apparent. "A young … person of your age should be able to cast it themselves, what is Flitwick teaching you anyway?" he continued irritably. "There's no time to teach it to you now on top of the other spell, we shall just have to send someone down to the infirmary—"

As he rattled on, his meaning slowly dawned on Hermione. When she had asked about 'protection', he had thought … Oh, it was too funny! Hermone snorted, feeling an uncontrollable giggling fit coming on.

"Um, Professor?" Hermione ventured, glad he couldn't see her face. "I … didn't mean contraception."

"You didn't…?" This seemed to put him even more off-balance.

"No." She hid her grin behind her hand until she regained control of her facial muscles. "Although it's probably a good idea. But just so you know, I'm on the Potion."

"You are," he repeated dully.

She nodded. "Yes." She suppressed a guffaw.

"You mean to tell me," Snape said, coming around to stand in front of her and not looking all that insecure at the moment, "that you have let me and everyone else out there" –he pointed back toward the Headmaster's office— "believe all this time that you were a blushing virgin, about to be desecrated for the sake of the most hated professor at this institution – for my sake in fact – when all this time, you and … who is it? Potter? Weasley? The both of them?" he demanded. Hermione thought he was becoming quite worked up over nothing. "Didn't you and that Durmstrang boy have something going on as well? I should have known. Thank you very much for letting me make a fool out of myself. I'm glad you've gotten a good laugh out of it at any rate."

"Oh, no! It's not that!" she said, although that was exactly what she had been doing. The laughing part, anyway, not the sleeping around. "I mean …. Of course, you're right," she tried to explain. "I haven't ever actually… well, you know, done 'it'." She looked demurely at her shoes. Somehow, although she was about to have sex with two carbon copies of the man before her, she couldn't quite bring herself to utter the word.

"But you said—"

"I just thought it was better to be prepared!" she said defensively. "With all the things that go on with some of the other girls…. I mean, I always hear Parvati and Lavender talking about--"

"Yes, yes, all right, you don't need to paint a picture," Snape said with a shudder. "So once again, you simply wanted to have all the bases covered. How conscientious of you."

"I guess it turned out I was right," Hermione pointed out, trying her utmost not to sound smug. She actually did feel a bit bad for him. "Now you don't need to teach me that charm," she added brightly. Although it might have been entertaining, she thought.

"No." He didn't need to add, 'thank God'.

"But I still have my question," Hermione ventured. "How are you going to protect me? I mean, no offense of course, but you just said yourself that in your current situation, your magic isn't very strong. I can attest to that, if their magic is the same as yours. Their spells weren't very effective, even with both of them casting."

"Mine may not be, but, and I do hate to admit it, yours is."

"Mine? You mean I'm supposed to hold off both of them?" Hermione laughed again, but this time it wasn't very humorous. "I'm sorry, but according to your plans, I won't even be able to see what they're doing. How am I supposed to keep both of them covered at the same time?"

Snape's shoulders sagged. "You're right. This will never work. Not about needing to keep them covered -- I had another idea in that regard -- but this is too much for a sixth-year and a half-Squib to take on. We'll just have to go back out there and tell them we've reconsidered." He ran a hand over his face, making it longer still. "I'll never hear the end of the 'I-told-you-so's, but then I'm used to it."

"No, wait!" Hermione was not about to give up that easily, especially when the only other options were to stay half-Bonded or be Imperiused. "I'm sorry," she said as contritely as she could, "I should have listened to the rest of your plan. What were you going to say? About not needing to keep the other two covered?"

"It doesn't matter. Something would probably have gone wrong anyway," he sighed with an air of resignation.

"Why do you say that? Come on, tell me," she cajoled. "You've had some pretty good ideas so far."

"Like the one that got me into this mess in the first place," he said mournfully.

"I don't know … What did happen?" Hermione, genuinely curious, leaned forward in her seat.

Just then, however, the door slammed open and Hermione's two Bond-mates appeared, looking very much put out. "What the blazes are you two doing?" one of them demanded. "Don't think just because you got the brains that you can put one over on us! She's ours!"

"We were just talking!" Hermione said, quite irritated at the intrusion, yet hard-put to stop herself from jumping their bones immediately.

Professor McGonagall's figure appeared in the doorway next. "Is everything all right, Miss Granger? I'm terribly sorry, but I looked away just for a moment. They're chomping at the bit to see you again." Her expression was quite sour.

Hermione looked at Insecure-Snape, who had slunk off to lean dejectedly against the wall.

"If you could just give us five more minutes," she appealed to her Head of House.

"No more stalling!" Vengeful-Snape snapped. "We aim to have you, whether you want us to or not!"

"Please," she pleaded, boldly going up to him and putting her hand on his chest. "I'm just as eager as you – incredibly disturbing as that is – but Professor Snape here was just about to tell me something very, very important." She stood on tip-toe and whispered in his ear: "I think it will help us to exclude him from any later integrations." She followed this pronouncement with a knowing wink.

"Hmm," he rumbled, tempted by the prospect but still unhappy about being put off yet again.

"Come along, Severus," McGonagall said crisply, holding out an arm to him. "You, too," she added, corralling Sadistic-Snape, who had been surreptitiously edging his way over to Insecure-Snape with a malicious gleam in his eye. "Five minutes," she said firmly, regarding Hermione over the top of her granny glasses.

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione replied dutifully, her heart breaking just a little at the sight of the door closing on her two soul-mates. She forced herself to tear her eyes away, though, and to focus instead on Insecure-Snape.

"Right, then," she said briskly. "We have five minutes. We can talk about how you got Split another time – in fact I'm burning to know – but right now you just need to tell me how I'm supposed to keep them under control."

"I heard what you said," Snape said in a small voice.

"What?"

"I heard what you said. About getting rid of me. I can't say that I blame you."

This outburst of self-pity, especially at such a critical juncture, caused Hermione to lose all semblance of patience. "What are you—That was a trick! A subterfuge! A lie! I only said that to pacify him. You call yourself a Slytherin? The only reason he fell for it is that he's so fixated on satisfying his own needs that he'll believe anything that plays into that." Hermione grabbed his shoulders and forced Insecure-Snape to look her in the eye. "We haven't got time for this! Honestly, you're my last hope! I don't know how I'm going to get through this without you. I need you, just as much as I need them. More, in fact, because it's only the Bonded part of me that needs them, but all the rest of me, the part that's really and truly Hermione Granger, needs _you_! Not them, not the teaching one, or any of the others. You're the only one who understands how I feel. And maybe I'm the only one who understands how you feel.

"Listen: You dislike everything about them, and yet they're part of you. You want to forget about them and get on with your life, but you can't function without them. You know that the only thing to do is to let them into your body and then try to deal with it, but you're scared that you'll lose your own identity, or that they'll hurt you so badly you'll just go and hide somewhere and never come out again. I know! Please! I need your help, and then I'll help you, however I can. Maybe with me in there too, he won't be so bad. Maybe I can show him… I don't know, how he needs you, too. He could do with a little humility, don't you think?" She gave him an awkward smile.

Snape regarded her with a mixture of disbelief and hope. "You'd do that? For me?"

"Of course I will. You're not so bad, you know." She couldn't help a smile curling onto her lips, and she looked down, embarrassed. "Bit annoying when you get _too_ down on yourself, but much more approachable than any of the others."

"Really? You're just saying that now."

"No, definitely. Now come on. Tell me the rest of the plan." She slid her hand down to hold onto his forearm and pulled him into a chair.

"There is a spell," he began shyly, once she was settled as well, "called the Momentum Shield. Its basic principle is that it reflects back the momentum of an object used against it. If something comes at the shield at a high velocity, it will be repelled with an equal force. A rock thrown at it will bounce back. A fist wielded against it at a rapid speed will also be deflected."

"So if they try to attack me physically, they won't be able to touch me," Hermione concluded. "Brilliant. There's only one problem."

Snape sighed. "I knew there would be."

"Um…" Her eyes slid off to the side. "They need to be able to touch me." Involuntarily, her thoughts turned to Lavender and Ron, groping in the Gryffindor common room. Would Snape really put his hands all over her like that? Quite honestly, she didn't think she'd like that. He was rough, callous. Even if he wasn't trying to do violence to her, he wouldn't be kind. True, it would be her Snapes, but just because she needed him to be a part of her didn't mean she would enjoy his touch. Her wandering gaze landed on the hands of the Snape before her. These hands looked gentle. These hands looked like they knew the difference between caressing and crushing.

Their owner spoke, cutting into her thoughts: "They will be," he replied, meaning that the other Snapes would still be able to touch her despite the magical shield spell. "If the attempted breach of the shield is at a very low speed, the reflected force will be low enough to push past."

"One of them could still try to strangle me, once he got his hands on me," Hermione suggested.

"You'd have time to react to that. As soon as he starts to do anything that you don't want, don't forget that you'll have your wand and can immobilize him. What we need to guard against, as I see it, is any attempt on his part to knock your wand away. Our advantage is that he'll have to move so slowly to get to it that I'll be able to warn you and you can react."

"You'll warn me?"

"Of course. As I explained, for the greater part of the ritual, they will be behind you and you will not be able to see them. I will be watching from a safe vantage point."

"Oh, right." So Insecure-Snape would be watching the entire time. He would see when they did … that. Hermione's stomach squirmed, but as they were pressed for time, she wasn't able to dwell on the image any longer.

Snape quickly explained the incantation and the wand movement involved in casting the spell, and then Hermione tried it. At first, she felt a tightness against her skin, as if all the air in the room were being briefly compressed against her, but then it was gone.

"So… erm… I'm not sure if it worked," she said, standing carefully in the middle of the floor. "Can we test it somehow?"

"I will attempt to hit you," Snape said stoically.

Hermione nodded. "All right. But maybe just my hand." She twittered nervously.

She held out her left hand and flinched as Snape brought his down hard against it, but the expected sting never came. Instead, as soon as Snape's hand came within a couple of centimeters of hers, it flew back as if she had flung it away. A warm feeling of pride and satisfaction rose in Hermione, as it always did when she did something right.

"Very good," Snape commented with a flat expression. "Now let's try something a little harder."

He pulled his arm back, then swung it toward Hermione, as if trying to grab her around the neck. She braced herself and closed her eyes, this time feeling the impact in the form of that compressed air again, which made her stagger slightly backwards, but he still wasn't able to break through the shield.

"I think that will be sufficient," Snape stated, and when she opened her eyes, she was certain she could read the approval on his face.

"There's just one more thing…" Hermione ventured, then continued at Snape's raised eyebrow: "We need to see if he can get through the shield in slow motion."

"We shall see that presently."

"No, I'd really like to try it now. It might make them angry otherwise. They might think we're trying to trick them, if they can't … you know."

Snape looked more ill at ease than he had since setting foot in the room. "So, you want me to…" He made a half-hearted gesture.

"If you don't mind." She smiled shyly and held out her hand.

Snape regarded the proferred appendage with a queasy expression.

"Go on, you were so keen to hit me just now. It's just my hand." She wiggled her fingers.

Gingerly, Snape stretched out one finger. Hermione held her breath. Lightly, ever so tantalizingly lightly, his finger brushed her palm. A shiver ran up her arm. Snape feathered his finger across her palm and down the length of her middle finger. An exquisite ache grew in Hermione's center. She leaned ever so slightly closer to him in order to prolong the contact, when a sharp rap sounded at the door and Snape snatched his hand back.

With a sharp and inexplicable feeling of guilt, Hermione looked up at Snape. He looked scared, yes, but also hurt. The same look she'd seen on Harry's face when he'd watched Ginny and Dean together the previous year. It hit her in the gut like a mallet.

"Hermione, Severus, are you ready?" Professor McGonagall asked

Hermione gulped and nodded, locking eyes with Insecure-Snape. "Yes, Professor," she managed to whisper. Her heart was beating a mile a minute and she felt like she was about to lose control of everything below her waist. It was time.

--/--/-/-/--/--

_Author's Note: Okay, okay, I know I didn't get to 'it' yet! I don't mean to be a tease. I meant to get Hermione and the Snapes together, but then I felt that it was important to set up this scene first. And then it seemed like a good place to break before the next chapter. Please don't throw fruit. Unless it's grapes. Yum!_

_Also: I don't think I came up with the idea of the Momentum Shield. I'm pretty sure I've read it somewhere else before, only maybe not in HP fandom. If anyone knows the credit, let me know._


	13. Chapter 13: The Bond Completed

_Author's note: Okay, here it is. I had to work really hard to keep it rated T, but I had a validator from another HP site look at it and he told me this was okay for that rating. So, without further ado, here it comes..._

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter Thirteen**

**The Bond Completed**

"Looks like it's just you and I, then." Sadistic-Snape's eyes glittered wickedly as the door shut, closing Hermione into the room with him his two alter egos. A barely perceptible signal passed between Sadistic- and Vengeful-Snape, putting Hermione on alert, but she didn't have any time to react before the former launched himself at her, apparently in an attempt to grab and silence her.

The impact knocked her off her feet, but he hadn't been able to touch her, to his surprise and fury. That didn't stop him from trying again, though, and the second attack came so quickly that Hermione wasn't able to get her wand up before he landed on top of her, this time bouncing off onto the floor himself. Hermione rolled away, pointing her wand at him and screaming, "Immobulus!" and only now registering the cry from Insecure-Snape, who had been knocked down by Vengeful-Snape and was being mercilessly kicked and pummeled.

They had never considered that Insecure-Snape might be a target as well. Which goes to show that Self-Preserving-Snape wasn't just there for decoration, and that brains aren't everything. But there was no time for speculation or regrets, and Hermione was loathe to cast anything at the wrangling pair, being afraid that she would hit the wrong one. She didn't consider that, even if she did immobilize Insecure-Snape by mistake, she need do nothing more than reverse the spell once the vengeful one was taken care of. But then she wasn't known for her brilliance under pressure (viz. the Devil's Snare incident).

Instead, she shrieked, "Stop it!" at the top of her lungs and proceeded to cry out for the adults whom she presumed were still in the next room, not trusting herself to turn her back on Vengeful-Snape long enough to get to the door.

"There's a silencing spell on the door, you imbecile," Vengeful-Snape sneered, panting with the effort of smashing his palm against Insecure-Snape's face, and Hermione realized too late that that was most likely true; after all, she had wondered during the earlier Bondings why she hadn't been able to hear any of the goings-on, and it wasn't for lack of trying. Well, that was just peachy.

And it meant that she'd have to actually go out to get any help, which she was just about to do, were it not for the fact that she'd forgotten about a certain frozen sadist lying around with no particular purpose. She landed on the floor with a crash, her feet tangled up in his outstretched arms, and Vengeful-Snape, having apparently decided that Insecure-Snape had been beaten to the perfect consistency of pulp, or perhaps it was just that he wanted to stop her from escaping him once again, at any rate, he leapt across the room in an astoundingly graceful manner and learned the hard way that Hermione was under some sort of magical protection. He ended up in what looked like a very uncomfortable position beside his partner, which Hermione quickly immortalized with a judicious re-application of the Immobilization Charm.

"Unhghhaarhghgnuh!" Insecure-Snape vocalized incoherently, which reminded Hermione that she really needed to do something about him.

"Oh, God!" she cried. All thoughts of getting help forgotten at the sight of the pathetic professor crumpled on the floor, she clambered over the two motionless figures, losing a shoe in the process. Her robe got snagged on some appendage or other as well, but she was able to yank it free with only a slight tear resulting.

When she reached him, it didn't take a professional Healer to see that Insecure-Snape was, to put it simply, a mess. Hermione was in such a tizzy that she couldn't think what to cast first: Episkey to heal the surely broken nose? Tergeo to clean up the still-flowing blood? Frigo to apply to the already prodigious swellings on his noggin? Why, oh why, hadn't she taken that magical First-Aid course that she'd seen advertised in the Prophet last term? Never mind that school had been in session and the course had taken place on Guernsey; surely she could have wheedled another Time-Turner out of McGonagall!

"Are you all right?" she asked fearfully, hands hovering indecisively over his disheveled figure. The fact that he was patently not all right had not escaped her, but it was one of those automatic kind of things one says. "Wait here," she added needlessly, as if he were about to trot off, "I'll go get Professor Dumbledore."

"Ngnhaangh!" One eye nearly swollen shut, the other obscured by a hank of sticky hair, he groped blindly in the direction of her voice.

"What?"

Snape made an effort to speak clearly: "Ngo Dubbledoh…"

"Professor McGonagall, then! Oh, you need medical attention, Professor, if you could only see yourself!" Hermione fretted.

By now, he had managed to grasp her sleeve, which he used to pull her down until she was just inches away from his broken face. "Ngo… Ipperiushshsh…"

"What do you—Oh!" His meaning became clear. "You're afraid that they'll use the Imperius if we tell them about this." Her heart warmed at his concern for her, despite the fact that he was the one who had been so cruelly abused. She gently clasped the hand that was holding on to her. "Don't worry. I'm not afraid now. I mean… I am afraid," she admitted, "but I can do it," she concluded decisively. "They won't need to coerce me. I'll just—" She took a deep breath. "—march right in there, in here, that is, do it like you said, you know … Your plan … Good plan, by the way…" She trailed off, having forgotten what she was saying as the angles and trajectories rose to her mind's eye once again.

He slumped back down, letting his hand slide away from her. "Shorry…" he mumbled disconsolately. "My phfault…"

Hermione regarded the pitiful heap of a professor before her. Aspects of his own self had done this to him. And they, and others, had been beating him up, mentally, for years, possibly his entire life. A wave of indignation and sympathy swelled in her breast. If she went out there now and admitted that his plan had failed, everyone's prejudices against him would only be confirmed. She couldn't do that to him. She just couldn't!

She grasped her wand resolutely and began reciting incantations. Snape, surprised, protested at first, until she put one finger gently on his mouth as she healed his split lip. They shared a startled moment of recognition before both hastily looked away.

In just a few minutes, he was able to sit up, looking – if not exactly normal, then at least not like a pile of potions ingredients. Hermione hadn't dared to attempt to fix the broken nose or the likely broken ribs, and she hadn't any idea what to do about the chipped tooth, but she'd done enough other minor repairs that he could at least see, breathe, talk, and move without great effort.

"Thank you," he said finally, and the sincerity in his deep voice caused Hermione's stomach to flutter.

Embarrassed, she nodded curtly before turning to the two Snapes still lying on the floor.

"And now to unfreeze these two—" she began in a business-like voice.

"No—" Insecure-Snape protested, reaching out a hand to her, but not touching her this time. "This was a bad idea," he said remorsefully. "It could have been you. I thought I was smart enough to outwit them, but I made a mistake. Go get Professor McGonagall to oversee the Bonding." He attempted to pull himself up against the wall, wincing gingerly.

"No," Hermione stated firmly, even as she helped him up. "We won't let them win. You and I are in this together. We'll just have to be more careful. Here." She led him carefully to a chair. "You sit right there. Now." She hunkered down so that she could look him in the eye. "We're going to do it just the way you said. Only one half at a time. You'll see what I mean in a minute. All you need to do is warn me, you know, like you said. All right?"

Insecure-Snape shook his head. "No, we can't take that chance. I may not be able to get help if they overpower me again. The shield might not hold up long enough. Any number of things can go terribly wrong. It was hubris—"

"Professor Snape," Hermione cut him off, a smile playing on her lips. "Trust me."

Insecure-Snape watched her with wide, dark eyes for an interminable moment, then closed them and nodded. Far from looking optimistic, though, he seemed pained by something beyond his physical maladies, a fact which briefly troubled Hermione, but she didn't dwell on it, instead adding in what she hoped was a comforting manner, "Look, I'll even re-cast the shield to be sure." Said, done, and without waiting for another protest, she went boldly over to her soul-mates.

"Now," she said, standing over them with her hands on her hips. "I know you heard what Professor Snape and I just discussed. We are going to continue with this ritual, despite your atrocious attempts at sabotaging it. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, you know, the both of you," she scolded. "We're only trying to help you. You were the ones who came to me and wanted me to re-Bond you, need I remind you. I told you I didn't know how to do it, but you insisted. Well. Now here we are," she said in that know-it-all manner that had endeared her to so many.

"I am going to complete the Bond with you, but we're going to do it on my terms. If you don't cooperate, I will ask Professor Dumbledore to unBond us, the chances being that you will be damaged beyond repair as a consequence, but at least I'll be rid of you, and the rest of your personalities will have a fair chance of a normal life. You've been indulged for far too long, if you want my opinion. Now, I don't want to have to do that, but if you force a choice between yourselves and any other of your selves, I think you realize that you've made yourselves pretty unpopular." Hermione replayed that sentence in her head, realized it had way too many 'yourselves' in it, and tacked on, "Oh, you know what I mean."

She then continued, "I am going to reverse the Immobulus Charm on one of you, and one of you only. If that one cooperates, I will consider reversing the charm on the other one so that we can complete the Bond. Professor Snape believes that our Bond must be carried out simultaneously, as opposed to consecutively, so that's the way we're going to do it. Have I made myself completely clear?" The only answer she received was deathly glares, but as they didn't have much choice, she took it as assent.

"Oh, and as you may have noticed, I am protected by a Momentum Shield. You can't hit me, kick me, jump me, basically any physical attack will be repelled. You can still touch me, which you'll need to for the Bond, but it has to be slow or you can't get past the shield. So you can put any thought of attacking me again right out of your minds. And stay away from Professor Snape, too, or I might have to get creative with my wand.

"Now, which one of you is which?" She'd gotten pretty good at telling them apart, but only when they were able to move their faces: There was just something about their sneers. As it was, though, she turned to Insecure-Snape for a hint. "Can you tell which one is the sadistic one? I believe I'd rather leave him for last." She figured that the vengeful one might just find that humiliating her was revenge enough, since she'd never done much more than that to him, whereas the sadistic one might actually try to hurt her just for the fun of it.

Insecure-Snape craned his neck. "That one on the bottom," he said. "Look how the other one's knuckles are red from hitting me."

"And you're sure it was— Never mind," she said, determined to bolster Insecure-Snape's confidence. "I believe you. Finite Incantatem."

Vengeful-Snape (Insecure-Snape having been correct in his surmise) scrambled to his feet, seething. "How dare you! You tricked us! You've been in cahoots with him all along" –he flung an arm in Insecure-Snape's direction— "and Dumbledore, too, I shouldn't be surprised! This is all an elaborate plan to get rid of us. The Dark Lord will be distributing wands to Muggles before we agree to an unBonding. You and I are going to complete this Bond now, and no more excuses!"

He lunged at Hermione, but she backed up several steps, holding her wand out in front of her. "Ah-ah-ah, slowly, Professor, remember?"

"I'll show you slowly," he growled, pacing around her like a tiger, all the while loosening his robes.

"Okay, I'm cooperating with you, remember?" she said, keeping her wand trained on him. "We both want the same thing. You and I need each other. It won't do you any good to hurt me."

"At this point, I don't much care about that stupid Bond." He tossed his outer robes away in a sweeping gesture and started on his shirt. "You've been driving me crazy for years, Granger, and I see this as your final comeuppance."

"You still need me alive until the Bond is completed," she reminded him, not much liking the wild look in his eye. "And after that, too," she added hastily. "Bond-widowers have a very poor survival rate themselves."

"Oh, I'm not planning on killing you," he returned smoothly. "Although I certainly hope that you will wish I had." He left his shirt gaping open and went to work on the fastenings of his trousers.

Hermione's throat had gone completely dry and she found to her profound mortification that she couldn't tear her eyes away from the area his hands were currently occupied with.

He smirked upon noticing where her focus had landed. "Find this interesting, do you?" He undid one more button, revealing a noticeable bulge covered only by the fabric of his underpants. "I think you actually want this. You play at being the stammering, innocent maiden, but you really can't wait to get into my pants. Tell me, Miss Granger, do you think about it during my classes?" He walked closer to her, leaving the opening of his trousers half peeled back like the petals of a flower around the stamen, and caressing his groin with his fingertips. Hermione felt an involuntary tightening in her own loins, and alarm bells started to ring in her head at his approach, but she couldn't bring herself to move, or even look, away.

"I think you Bonded yourself to me on purpose," he continued, now a mere handful of steps away from her. "I think you are looking forward to having your cherry popped by me. Or maybe we should do it the other way. I'm sure my friend on the floor there would be happy to explain it all to you. You won't be walking for days." Hermione's budding excitement turned cold. This wasn't how she and Snape had planned it. Not at all!

Apparently, he didn't think so either, for he pushed himself up out of his chair. "This isn't right!" Insecure-Snape protested, not quite authoritatively. "It's all my fault, after all. Use me to satisfy your twisted lusts, if you must, but leave her alone. Isn't it enough that she's consented to let you touch her at all?" Hermione's breath caught in her throat. His words had come out more supplicative and whiny than commanding and derogatory, but it was definitely the thought that counted in this case.

Vengeful-Snape whirled and pointed at his unfortunate double, a look of utter loathing disfiguring his face. "You keep out of this. You're nothing but a pathetic little parasite. You serve absolutely no purpose. We should have killed you weeks ago."

"If you had, we would never have found the Bonding text!" Hermione said, furious at how little valued Insecure-Snape was. "He was the one who brought it to our attention."

"Yes, I heard that," Vengeful-Snape sneered, shooting Insecure-Snape a derisive glare. "In other words, not only is it his fault that we were Split in the first place, it is due to him that we are to be saddled with you."

"That's not what I meant at all!" Hermione protested in frustration, even as Insecure-Snape's face fell and he slumped back down onto his chair.

"I think it's time we shut you up, once and for all!" Vengeful-Snape came at her fast, crowding her back against the bed, but Hermione held out her wand, pointing it between his eyes and trying very hard not to let her hand shake.

"Slowly, Professor," she warned him.

"Yes… slowly…" He leered at her and closed the gap between them. There was a barely-noticeable hitch as he pushed his hand past the Shield and gathered a handful of the fabric of her robes at her neck in order to pull her toward him. Hermione's breath caught as she teetered between panic and the overwhelming urge to complete the Bond. She could feel the magic tugging at her sanity, the siren song of his soul crying out to hers.

"Mind you keep your wand arm free!" Insecure-Snape interjected anxiously, pulling Hermione back to reality with an annoying jerk. But she did make sure that her right arm was well back and that her grip on her wand was as firm as ever.

"Can't you silence him?" Vengeful-Snape muttered, pressing his body against hers. Hermione was vaguely aware that she should make an attempt to answer in the negative, but she was too distracted by lumps and curves that were so boldly making their presence known to her. She found herself sliding her left hand up his arm, and as she closed her eyes, she had the most delicious sensation of melting into him—

"Keep your eyes open!" Insecure-Snape screeched. "Don't let your guard down!"

Hermione groaned and fluttered her eyes back open, only to see her irritation mirrored in Vengeful-Snape's face.

"Why does he need to be here, anyway?" Vengeful-Snape asked with a scowl. "You're the one with the wand."

"I… need him," Hermione managed to get out, although she couldn't explain why. It didn't make any sense to her why she should need anyone other than Vengeful- and Sadistic-Snape. They were, after all, the end all and be all of her existence.

"You need me!" Vengeful-Snape insisted, which Hermione could only agree with.

"Yes…" she whispered, "you're right…" His black eyes were hypnotic; looking into them, she felt as if she were falling, and she had to grab onto him for support.

"That's more like it," he smirked, lowering her to the bed.

"Hermione—" Insecure-Snape sounded a strangled warning.

Vengeful-Snape's head snapped up; he seemed on the verge of saying something ugly to his alter ego, but then he got a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Well, now, isn't this an intriguing turn of events," he mused, looking back down at Hermione. "And it opens up all sorts of tantalizing possibilities."

"What?" Hermione asked, frustrated that he had gotten distracted from her.

"I do believe that Snivellus over there has feelings for you."

"What?!" Hermione tried to turn her head to catch a glimpse of Insecure-Snape.

"No!" the unfortunate object protested.

Vengeful-Snape chuckled. "You were never good at lying."

Hermione was shocked by this new idea that Insecure-Snape might fancy her. She should be disgusted, of course; after all, he was her teacher, way too old for her, and had a very weak character. On the other hand, it made her feel a little bit powerful. If it were true. Which of course it wasn't. But she was torn away from this line of thought by the man currently hovering over her, his very _mature_ body heavy against her.

"Tell me something, Hermione… I may call you Hermione, may I not?" Vengeful-Snape inquired in an altogether slimy manner. "How do you think he feels, having to watch you be ravaged by your favorite professor? By the man you love to hate?"

"I don't—" Hermione began, but Vengeful-Snape put a finger over her mouth. Hermione wanted both to jerk her head away and, inexplicably, to take that finger into her mouth and run her tongue around it.

"Ah-ah," Vengeful-Snape said softly, "don't forget, I am under the same compulsion as you. I dare say I understand quite well how you feel. You detest everything about me, from my physical appearance to my House politics to my association, former and present, with, shall we say, less than desirable elements. Oh, don't flatter yourself: I feel the same way about you, point for point. And yet here we are, unable to resist one another." He slid his hand around her chin and twisted her head roughly to the side. For a moment, Hermione had the wild notion that the rumors were true, that he was actually a vampire, but then she felt nothing worse than the scratch of his stubble rubbing against her neck, his warm breath leaving a damp trail along her skin.

She arched into him without even thinking about it, her craving to be part of him now completely irresistible.

"I'm afraid you're enjoying yourself far too much," he growled, and tugged roughly at the front of her robes, opening them completely.

"Don't you even--" she started, lifting her wand to fend off what seemed to be the beginning of a violent move, but he just chuckled again.

"You won't be needing that. I'm not going to hurt you. Well, not much. I won't be able to _penetrate_ you," he said, grinding his hips suggestively against hers, "without a small bit of pain. But you know what they say. No pain, no gain, eh?" He leered down at her. "But as I've said before, pain is sometimes overrated. It's over and done with in just a few minutes." He began, slowly this time, to unbutton her blouse. "But embarrassment …" –another button—"…humiliation …" –another button—"…shame …" –another button—"…those are not so easily forgotten. And how true it is: You never forget your first time." He delicately peeled the material of her blouse back. Hermione shivered as she felt cool air hit her skin. One part of her wanted to cover herself up again, but at the same time, she was curious and fascinated as to what he would do. And she still had her wand, if he did anything she didn't want him to.

"There we are," Vengeful-Snape remarked to Insecure-Snape. "Are you getting an eyeful?" He looked back down at Hermione. "Are you certain you want him to see this? He's a bit green around the gills over there."

"You really don't need to do this," Insecure-Snape moaned.

Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for the professor. It must be an awful spectacle, she had to admit. She scowled at Vengeful-Snape.

"Can we get to the Bonding already?" she asked, and while she tried to sound impatient, it came out sounding more like an overeager schoolgirl. She tried to rein in her libido. "There's nothing that says you have to … touch me and things. Just do it and then I can unfreeze the other Professor."

He smirked. "How little you know of the male of the species. I'm afraid it doesn't always work on command like that. You have to put me in the mood."

Her eyes flicked down to his pants. "It certainly looks like you're in the mood already," she remarked.

He scowled. "Keep talking and you'll ruin what little mood there is." He stood up again, his trousers still gaping open.

Hermione tried not to focus on The Bulge, but she couldn't help it. There it was! She very strictly forced herself to look at his face. This must be what it must be like, she realized, for those boys (of whom there were not a few) who had the infuriating tendency to stare at a girl's chest whenever talking to one. It did take an awful lot of self-control not to.

"I think it would be best if you disrobe yourself the rest of the way," Vengeful-Snape said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Show us all what a willing little whore you are."

"I don't think that's—" Insecure-Snape began nervously, but Hermione drowned him out, shouting crossly: "I am not a whore! You certainly couldn't pay me enough to do this willingly. It's this stupid Bond!"

Determined now to get things moving before he could make further attempts at humiliating her, she lifted her hips up off the bed and shimmied one-handed out of her skirt, her other hand still firmly gripping her wand. 'Just pretend he's a doctor,' Hermione tried to tell herself.

"Now how about you take off your…" She waved vaguely at his nether regions. "…whatever it is you need to take off."

"She has on little pink knickers, Snivelly," he announced in a mocking tone. "With tiny little bows. How utterly _cute_." He fixed Hermione with a glare. "Take them off!"

"I don't see you taking yours off," she shot back, stalling for time. She was itching to do it, but a big part of her still wasn't ready. This was it. She couldn't take it back later. She had to do it! If she didn't she was going to go crazy! She could feel it, the emptiness in her crying out to be filled.

She was just lifting her free hand to the waistband of her knickers, preparing to pull them down, when Snape answered her challenge first and whipped his trousers down in one rapid motion. Hermione got one quick flash before squeezing her eyes firmly shut. "Oh!" she squealed.

"Open your eyes, you silly girl!" Vengeful-Snape moved toward Hermione and must have wanted to grab her, but apparently he moved too fast, because all she felt was the pressure of his rebound against the Shield. He grunted in annoyance. "No more games!" He sounded angry. "Get these off and unfreeze the other one." She felt a hand, gently this time, tugging at her knickers.

"No!" she protested, pushing his hand away without opening her eyes.

Vengeful-Snape started to shout at her in exasperation, but she said, trying to remain calm, "I have to do it myself."

"Then do it, damn it, I'm getting cold out here!"

Hermione was now seriously considering backing out. What she had seen already was more than she had wanted to. Sure, she'd always been curious, had seen drawings, knew in theory what to expect, but the… Thing … was just too foreign-looking, and to contemplate watching as he put it… No. No, and again, no. But if she didn't… the professor might never get back together again. Some of them might even die. She had to. She had to! It was just skin, she reasoned. Just a big finger. She'd touched his skin already. She'd shaken his hand. She'd shaken lots of hands. Okay, that wasn't so bad.

But she couldn't keep her eyes closed the whole time. If only for safety reasons. She didn't think he'd be able to grab her wand due to the Shield, but she'd been wrong before. Maybe if she just turned her head… Then she remembered. Insecure-Snape's original plan. It had called for her to lie on her stomach with her legs angled down off the bed, with Vengeful-Snape behind her. It hadn't made much sense to her when Insecure-Snape had explained it to her, but now it was as if a light had gone off in her head. She didn't know whether Insecure-Snape had thought of that position on purpose so that she wouldn't have to watch, but it was certainly a useful side-effect. And he – Insecure-Snape, that is – would watch the other two Snapes to make sure they didn't try any tricks behind her back. And she would have her wand securely under her chin, so that they couldn't get it. Perfect.

Feeling a new sense of calm, she rolled over onto her stomach and opened her eyes, immediately finding Insecure-Snape. He looked rough. It wasn't just the after-effects of the beating he'd endured. There was a strained, despondent look about him. Hermione wanted to comfort him, somehow, but there was no time. "Watch him for me now," she told him softly, seeking his eyes. "I need you."

This seemed to stir something in Insecure-Snape, and he rallied somewhat, nodding and squaring his jaw. Hermione nodded back, and, watching Insecure-Snape intently, reached back with her left hand and slipped off her knickers.

Vengeful-Snape chuckled. "So we're doing it that way, are we? I must say, Granger, I didn't think you had it in you…"

"No!" she said sharply. "Do it the… regular way. It will work like this, won't it?" She looked questioningly at Insecure-Snape, who nodded.

"Yes." He looked nervously over Hermione's shoulder at Vengeful-Snape. "If he's careful, it'll work."

"I can't promise that," Vengeful-Snape said in an amused tone. "I may slip up… or down… it's so hard to control when one is in the throes of passion."

"Just go ahead and do it!" Hermione ordered him, now getting well and truly impatient. _Just skin, just skin, just skin_, she repeated to herself.

"You might want to come around to this side, Snivelly… Get a good view of what you will never have," Vengeful-Snape taunted.

Insecure-Snape did not respond, but Hermione saw him grip the arms of his chair more firmly, all the while keeping an eagle eye on his cruel counterpart.

She heard the man behind her move closer, and presently felt one hand rest on her buttock, causing all the muscles in her body to tense. She then felt something, and she squeaked out, "Did you do it?" If that's all there was to it, it wasn't that bad after all.

But then she felt two hands grasp her hips and along with the pain it was as if someone had opened a window in her mind, that was the only way to describe it, and she cried out and she knew that was it, and she peeked over her shoulder to get the aim right and froze him where he was.

"Are you all right?" Insecure-Snape was asking anxiously, but Hermione didn't have time for discussions, she had to complete the Bond, even now she was feeling the double emptiness of herself and Vengeful-Snape starting to overcome her, so she twisted around just a bit more and unfroze Sadistic-Snape.

"You bitch!" he roared, leaping to his feet.

A further tirade of obscenities began to pour out of his mouth as he started for Hermione, and in that instant she knew that she couldn't hope for any sort of cooperation from him, so she aimed her wand directly at him and cried out, "Imperio!"

She'd never actually had anyone under the Imperius before, so she was somewhat surprised that it had apparently worked, but Sadistic-Snape stopped where he was and became limp, like a marionette whose strings had gone slack.

"Help?" Hermione ventured in Insecure-Snape's direction. "What do I do now?"

"Did you just put him under the Imperius?" he asked, not quite seeming to believe it, either.

"I… think so," Hermione confirmed. "He was going to attack me, I had to stop him."

"He couldn't have gotten past the Shield," Insecure-Snape reminded her.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. But then he would have attacked you, or done something else bad, and we wouldn't have been able to complete the Bond. But we have to complete it now! It feels like—I can feel him, it's going to work, but tell me what to do!"

"You'll … Well, you'll need to get him physically connected." It seemed to pain Insecure-Snape to express even this euphemism.

"With me or with the vengeful one?"

"I should think the vengeful one, at this point. He is in a better position."

"Right. Okay. Professor Snape," she addressed Sadistic-Snape. "Go and … fuckthevengefulone," she mumbled quickly.

She hoped that would be explicit enough. She didn't want to have to go into any more detail as to what he should do. But he'd done it before, after all, so she supposed he'd know what to do. Miraculously, Sadistic-Snape did indeed move woodenly over behind Vengeful-Snape.

"What's he doing?" Hermione asked. "I can't see…"

Insecure-Snape leaned around. "He is disrobing," he reported flatly.

"Okay. Good. That's good, right?"

"It seems to be what the intention was."

Hermione waited impatiently, ever conscious of the presence of Vengeful-Snape in a very compromising position. What was taking him so long?

"Is he doing it yet? Why isn't anything happening?" she asked impatiently.

Insecure-Snape was twisting his hands in his lap and trying very hard not to look at Sadistic-Snape at the moment. "He's … preparing himself," he managed to whisper.

"Oh." Hermione considered what exactly that might mean and then decided she was glad she couldn't actually see it. A few seconds later, she felt Vengeful-Snape being pushed against her.

"Now? Is he doing it now? I don't feel any different." Shouldn't she feel his Bond as well?

Insecure-Snape peeked over out of the corner of his eye, frowned, then stood up and took a few hesitant steps in order to get a better look.

"It's not working," he reported anxiously. "It's all wrong, he can't…" He looked at Hermione helplessly.

"Why not? What's wrong?"

"I think you will need to unfreeze the one in the middle. He needs to bend over more," Insecure-Snape explained with misery in his voice.

And so Hermione wielded her wand once more, gritted her teeth, and spoke. "Finite Incantatem!"

"For God's sake, at least give him a lubrication charm!" Vengeful-Snape bellowed instantly. "I'll pay you back for this a thousand fold, you mark my words!" He proceeded to make good on his threat and Hermione felt the pain again and the window, and it was like a flood, the waters rushing in and filling her up, and she felt like she was drowning, she couldn't breathe and she couldn't think, she was scrabbling against the black waters pouring in, and then she was on top and in the middle of the water, and she felt that she was holding her own against the torrent, swirling around her, pushing and buffeting against her mind, she remained steady now, had found her footing, but the waters were there. Snape was there. She couldn't exactly read his thoughts, but she could feel that he was there. And she was whole again.


	14. Chapter 14: Fingernails on the Brain

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**Chapter 14**

**Fingernails on the Brain**

Hermione stared dreamily at Snape. That was the chest which had pressed itself against her… those were the fingers that had touched her lips, the lips that had made shivers run down her neck, and underneath the robes… Yes, underneath those robes were all the parts that she had come to know so intimately last night.

Only they weren't. He looked the part, but there was a certain spark missing. He was saying something about the Imperius Curse. She wasn't really paying attention. Teaching-Snape wasn't very interesting, after all, even if he did look like her Snape (Sadistic- and Vengeful-Snape having been reduced once again to a single malicious body; unfortunately, as she hadn't been facing them, she hadn't seen exactly how the melding had come to pass. She meant to ask Insecure-Snape at the next opportunity). Plus, she already knew all about the Imperius. She'd used it just last night. A thrill went through her at the memory, and she squirmed in her seat, casting sidelong glances at Harry and Ron. She felt like everyone could see what she'd done.

She couldn't believe it: she wasn't a virgin anymore. And it had been Professor Snape who'd deflowered her! She'd always imagined it would be someone she was crazy in love with, but in the end, the physical act itself hadn't been that big a deal. She'd thought that she'd feel different afterwards, but she didn't, not really. The greatest difference was that she now had this huge secret that she was bursting to tell someone, but of course she couldn't. Imagine what Harry and Ron would say if she told them that Professor Snape had taken her from the rear last night. Her stomach squiggled at the memory. She wasn't even sore. She had been, right afterwards, but Insecure-Snape had produced a cream from somewhere and fumbled it into her hands, mumbling something about topical use on his way out.

She wondered if, aside from the Imperius, attempted humiliation, Shield charm, and observation by Insecure-Snape, the whole experience had been very similar to a normal bedroom scene. Was it always that quick? Would it have felt different if he'd been in front of her, rather than behind? She'd never find out, not with him, anyway. There was no way she'd ever do that with him again. Well, okay, maybe she would… But only to save someone's soul, she primly told herself. But maybe some day, if she fell in love with someone…

Ron snorted at a joke from Harry, startling Hermione out of her reverie. Teaching-Snape dutifully took five points from Gryffindor, then continued with his monotone lecture. Hermione snuck a look at Ron. Would it feel different with him? She used to have a crush on him, she admitted. But now, looking at him with his baby-face and gangly movements, comparing that to Snape's stubble scratching against her neck, his self-assurance and sense of power, twisted though it was… it was no comparison. Hermione frowned. Now, did that make sense? Surely that was just the Bond speaking. Although, since they'd completed the Bond, she hadn't felt the overpowering desire to be together with him… because she _was_ together with him, or he with her. Not physically, of course, but that wasn't necessary. It wasn't like she could read his thoughts or anything, but she could feel him, sort of in the back of her mind. She knew that he was there, and that he was all right, and that comforted her.

It wasn't like a marriage, either. She wasn't in love with him. She wasn't about to live with him. She felt very powerful, though. She had a real, tangible connection to the soul of another living being.

There was something tugging at her now, however, distracting her. It was the Bond, but she couldn't tell exactly what it meant. Something was bothering her… or him… it was hard to tell. She fidgeted through the rest of class, then dashed out ahead of the boys; she had to find Snape.

At his private quarters, she had to knock several times before Insecure-Snape finally opened the door.

"Where is he?" Hermione asked without preamble, craning to look around the unfortunate professor.

Insecure-Snape's shoulders slumped as he stepped aside. "He's not here," he said curtly.

"Where is he, then?" Hermione demanded, not even thinking about the tone she was taking with a man who was still her professor. The bothersomeness was getting hard to ignore. It was something like the feeling she'd had before the Bond had been completed, but it wasn't a physical urge to be near him. It was hard to pin down, but there was again the feeling that something was missing, that something was out of kilter with the world.

Insecure-Snape shuffled over to a rickety stool and hunched down on it with a forlorn air. "The Headmaster won't let him wander around the castle unattended any more. Some incident with Flitwick. He's got him under observation in his office."

"Thanks!" Hermione turned to go, then hesitated. The pull in her mind was strong, but she felt that she owed something to Insecure-Snape for having helped her. That was a type of bond, too. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked in a monotone.

"You just seem kind of… down. More than usual, I mean." She looked once more around the room, ascertaining that Snape was alone. "There's no one here picking on you, is there?"

Snape shook his head. His lank hair shone dully in the dim light.

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms. "Then why the long face? You did a great job last night. Thanks to you, we got the two worst ones of you Bonded again. You're one step closer to re-integration. Isn't that something to look forward to?"

"If they still want me," he said morosely.

"Is that what this is about? Of course they still want you. Well, maybe not all of them," she admitted, "but most of them, and Professor Dumbledore does, too. And I do."

Snape picked at his robe.

"You're not the same without you. You know what I mean. I swear." When Snape didn't respond, Hermione continued, "Look, this has actually been a good thing. I've really come to know a different side of you. I didn't realize that beneath all that scowling and anger, there was a smart, sensitive … man." Hermione gulped a little at calling him a 'man'. It implied a level of familiarity that she wasn't sure she meant.

The bothersome feeling in the back of her mind was now becoming nearly impossible to ignore.

"I have to go," she said. "Something's not right with this Bond." She shook her head fretfully. "I'll see myself out."

Snape didn't even look up as she hurried out.

In the Headmaster's office, as promised, she found her Bondmate. He was currently destroying, meticulously and with brute force, every item within his reach. Professor Dumbledore was sitting calmly at his desk, bent over a large tome. Every once in a while, he would absentmindedly flick his wand over his head in order to deflect some flying piece of debris.

As she opened the door, Snape whirled around, a fist-sized, solid glass globe in one hand. She instinctively ducked at the same instant that he threw it, and it landed somewhere in the hallway behind her with a loud thud. He looked furious.

"Miss Granger, please come in," Professor Dumbledore said, motioning her closer. "Do close the door behind you, won't you?"

Hermione did so rather quickly, as Snape was making a lunge for it. He reached it a moment too late, and tore fruitlessly at the handle before changing tack and grabbing Hermione around the throat. Too late, she groped for her wand, but Dumbledore was on his feet in an instant and shot a spell at her attacker, causing him to release his hold on her and fall to his knees, gasping for breath.

"You… wouldn't…" he rasped, clawing at his throat.

"No, I wouldn't," Dumbledore agreed. "Miss Granger, step aside, if you would…?"

She hurried to comply, glass crunching underfoot, and as soon as she did, Dumbledore waved his wand, and Snape was able to breathe again, but had apparently become stuck to the floor by both knees and one hand.

Hermione stared wide-eyed at the poor man, rubbing her neck where his arm had bruised her. He was really in a terrible state. No wonder she had felt a disturbance.

"What's happened, Professor?" she asked the Headmaster, horrified, never once taking her eyes from the man on the floor.

"He's keeping me locked up here, that's what's happened!" bellowed Snape.

"I'm afraid it simply became untenable to allow you free rein, Severus," Dumbledore explained with a sigh. "Ruled by your single-minded thirst for cruel vengeance as you are. You are a danger for others, not to mention yourself."

"But you let him go before," Hermione said, her brow wrinkled in a frown at the injustice. "When he was first Bonded to himself. I mean—" She shook her head and tried to get the wording straight.

"Yes, yes, I understand," Professor Dumbledore reassured her. "I thought it prudent, however, to avoid a repeat of the re-Split which occurred by keeping Professor Snape under observation until such time as the next Bonding can be arranged."

"You'll never get me to do it!" Snape vowed.

"It's in your own best interest," Professor Dumbledore responded pleasantly. "You cannot survive separately, except perhaps in Azkaban. Society, I am afraid, is simply not ready for you."

The unpleasant feeling in the back of Hermione's mind throbbed and itched. She felt the overwhelming urge to scratch it, but how does one scratch inside one's head? She put her hands on the sides of her head, weaving her fingers in underneath her hair.

"Please, Professor," Hermione pleaded, turning to the Headmaster. "Isn't there anything that can be done so that he's less… unhappy?" she asked. "It's something about the Bond, I think…" She pressed in as hard as she could, as if that would make the feeling go away. "When he's like this, it… gnaws at me," she finished, for want of a better term.

Dumbledore's lined face took on a look of concern. "Dear me, I hadn't thought of that," he remarked gravely. "Of course, Professor Snape's distress will be affecting you as well." He gestured around the ruined room. "I was allowing him to take out his compulsion for destruction on some trinkets here, which seemed to appease him somewhat, but it looks that he's gone right through the lot."

Hermione thought quickly. If all he needed was something to wreak havoc on… "Maybe I could take him outside, Professor?" she ventured. "Let him rip up some plants…?"

"Plants!" Snape snorted. "Rip off some heads, more like it!" Although he seemed contemptuous of the idea, Hermione felt the disorder in her mind ebbing.

Professor Dumbledore regarded Hermione kindly. "While I appreciate the thought, are you certain that you can contain him should he get too – shall we say -- overzealous?"

Hermione stood up straight and thrust her shoulders back. "I handled him myself last night," she declared, although actually, she had had a bit of help from Insecure-Snape. But mostly, she had kept both Vengeful-Snape and Sadistic-Snape under control all by herself.

"So you did," Dumbledore acknowledged with a nod. He seemed to be taking the idea under serious consideration. "Perhaps we can attempt it for the afternoon only. I would expect you to bring him back here tonight."

Hermione's heart leapt. Not that she was going to enjoy spending time with Malicious-Snape, but she was gratified that Professor Dumbledore had accepted her suggestion and seen fit to entrust her with such a great responsibility. She was confident that she would be able to handle Snape. All she'd have to do would be to Immobilize him if he got out of line.

"Absolutely, Professor," she assured him importantly. "I'll be sure to have him back in time for dinner."

Snape was strangely silent during this exchange, but if the Headmaster thought anything of it, he didn't mention it. Hermione, for her part, took his silence for acquiescence; after all, she was getting him out, which was exactly what he wanted. She vaguely imagined that he might try to escape or kill someone again, but after all, what could he do without a wand? Still, she pointed hers at him warningly as Professor Dumbledore released him from the Sticking Charm.

"Slowly, now, Professor," she warned him. "You know what will happen if you don't behave yourself."

Snape rose to his not unimpressive height and sneered down at Hermione with nothing but contempt in his eyes. "You'll get Snivellus to beat me up?" he mocked.

Hermione gripped her wand more tightly. "Do I need to remind you what position you ended up in last night when you tried your tricks?"

Snape's lip curled in what may have been meant to be amusement. "You mean the one where I had you bent over with your arse in the air, begging me to—"

"Severus!" Professor Dumbledore admonished him. "That is no way to talk to a lady, much less one who has so kindly offered to help you."

Snape glowered at both of them, flexing his hands in a dangerous way. Hermione briefly considered casting the Shield charm again, but that seemed like showing weakness to her. Besides, he was calm now. She could feel it.

"After you," she commanded, indicating the door.

Snape cast one final look at Dumbledore, as if to see whether he was really going to let them get away with it, but it seemed he was, for the door swung inward of its own accord, and Snape lost no time in taking egress. Hermione ran after him, calling out, "Thank you, Professor! You won't be sorry, I promise!" over her shoulder.

Almost immediately, however, she worried that perhaps he would be sorry, or at the very least, she would be, for when she reached the bottom of the stairs, Snape was nowhere in sight. Panic froze her momentarily, before she heard the very distinctive sound of his voice, raised in a taunting manner.

She raced to follow it, and, turning the corner, found him nose-to-nose with Harry, Ron standing behind them, white-mouthed and uncertain.

"What's going on?" she demanded as she approached. "I swear, I let you out of my sight for two seconds—"

Before she knew what was happening, Snape had whirled around and seized her wand, which she was still holding, out of her hand.

"Hey--!" she protested, but Snape was already sending a curse at Harry, a nasty one, one which Harry was unable to deflect, being likewise unprepared for the unmitigated attack.

"What's he doing!" Ron screeched, obviously torn between wanting to help Harry and fearful of taking on Snape.

"Take that, Potter!" Snape bellowed, shooting another, clearly painful, hex at the unfortunate boy, who was now on the floor, squirming.

"No!" Hermione cried, horrified. "Stop it!" She made a grab for the wand, but Snape shoved her handily away, then sent Harry skittering against the wall, where he slumped down, motionless. "Harry!" Hermione screamed. Oh, no! This was all her fault! He'd kill Harry before she had a chance to get Professor Dumbledore…

Snape was just raising the wand once more, when… he grabbed at his head with both hands and bent over, as if he were hearing a sound that was painful to his ears.

"What the—" Ron grunted out.

"Ron!" Hermione said, it beginning to dawn on her what had happened. "Quickly, get Harry down to the hospital wing! I'll take care of Professor Snape! Quickly!" she repeated, as Ron was still standing there dumbly, gaping at the hunched-over professor.

For his part, Snape raised his head now and pointed the wand at Hermione. "You…" he ground out. "You're doing this…"

Hermione shook her head, frightened but adamant. "No, you're doing it. You hurt my best friend. I thought you were going to kill him. It's the Bond. That's what it feels like when I'm in distress."

Snape snarled like a wild cat and launched himself at Hermione. Too bad she hadn't cast that Shield charm after all, she fleetingly thought as his hands came into contact with her shoulders and slammed her against the wall. She caught a glimpse of Ron loping away, Harry's lifeless figure slung over his shoulder, and while she was grateful that Harry would be looked after, she realized she was now all alone with a psychopathic killer.

"Do you mean to tell me, that if I do anything that causes you distress, this bloody Bond will scratch its fingernails across my brain until I stop?"

"That's exactly what it feels like!" Hermione exclaimed in relief. It had been bothering her no end that she couldn't describe what the feeling was like. "And I don't think it has to be you, per se, causing the distress. It could be anything. I felt it when Dumbledore was holding you prisoner."

"Hm…" Snape seemed to be considering how he could turn this to his advantage. "But if I do something that makes you … happy …" He seemed to find the very word distasteful. "… the Bond shouldn't object to it?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't see why it should. But it's not like you're very likely to do something that I'd like, is it?" she added cynically.

Snape pressed her wand to her throat. "Quickly! Tell me whom you'd like to take vengeance on! Who would you like to see turned inside out through their nose and dragged across sharpened Basilisk fangs?"

"Okay, first of all—" Hermione pushed the wand away from her with her fingertip. "—_that_ kind of tends to increase my stress levels. Secondly, I don't hate anyone that much. Not all of us bear grudges a mile long, you know."

"A strong dislike, then! Someone who – I don't know, wouldn't let you play their little reindeer games! Called you names! Laughed at your hair! There must be dozens to choose from!"

"You mean other than you?"

"Would that work?" Snape asked hopefully. "Should we get the one who teaches? I'll bet he grades very, very unfairly…"

"No!" Hermione retorted. "You will not go hexing yourself!"

"That damned pompous one, then. He always thinks he's so much smarter than you."

"Does he really?" Hermione was a little hurt by that.

"Oh, yes…" Malicious-Snape said greedily. "Much, much smarter. He thinks you're even stupider than Potter…"

Hermione scoffed. Even she could see that that was patently untrue. "That's silly. You're just trying to get me to agree to your hexing someone. I won't do it."

"Isn't there someone you'd like to see suffer, just a little? Someone who's made your life unpleasant, someone who never seems to get their just desserts? Someone who has everything handed to them on a silver platter, while you've had to work your fingers to the bone for everything you've ever gotten—"

"Malfoy," Hermione murmured, almost involuntarily.

Snape perked his ears. "What's that? Malfoy, did you say?"

"No! You won't hex anyone!"

"Elder or younger?" Snape pressed, ignoring her protest. "If it's Draco, we could go get him right now. I know all the dormitory passwords. He can't hide."

"No, I said! Just because he's belittled me since day one, made fun of my heritage, sabotaged my classwork—"

"Don't forget, made fun of your looks," Snape added slyly. "I heard him calling you a beaver several times, before you got those things—" He indicated her front teeth. "—fixed. Of course, back then, I awarded him House points for putting you in your snotty little place, but now—" he hurried to add, alarmed at Hermione's darkening expression, "now, I'm on your side! He deserves to be punished. It's time he got his comeuppance. I'm sure we can come up with more reasons…"

Hermione mumbled something sheepishly.

"What's that? I didn't quite catch it…" Snape said eagerly.

"I said, okay, you can do one little hex on him," she repeated, out of the corner of her mouth. "But nothing painful!" she hastened to add, upon seeing his face light up evilly.

"All right, all right, we'll start small. Give you a taste for it," he agreed, rubbing his hands together. "What would you suggest? Boils? Slime-balls? Lusitanian Bollocks Jinx?"

"I'm… not sure what that last one is," she said, giving Snape an odd look. "And boils sound painful. How about…" Hermione cast about in her mind for something fitting, yet not disabling. Something that would show him that blood purity wasn't everything. Was there a curse to turn someone into a Muggle-born for a day? Although he wouldn't even notice the difference, because there _was_ no difference… His looks, then. Snape was right, Malfoy's second most favorite target on Hermione was her looks. Her eye fell on Snape's own less-than-desirable hair as she considered… Exactly!

"Greaseball!" she exclaimed, snapping her fingers.

"Swotty pain-in-the-arse!" Snape retorted.

Hermione clicked her tongue. "No! I don't mean you. I mean the Greaseball Hex. You can cast that on Malfoy."

"It's not painful at all," Snape said derisively.

"I said, no pain," Hermione reminded him. "Not physical pain, anyway. But Malfoy's always making fun of other people's hair… mine, Harry's, Ron's… And he takes great care with his own. It'll drive him crazy if he can't get it clean."

"I was hoping for something a bit more creative," Snape said, peeved.

"It's either that, or back to Professor Dumbledore's office."

Snape exhaled sharply through his nose and twisted his lips in a dissatisfied manner. "I get to pick the next one, then."

"We'll see," Hermione responded evasively.

Snape started off down the corridor, and Hermione hustled to catch up. Thinking he was now bent on his little plans and wouldn't notice, she reached over and tried to snatch her wand back, but Snape tightened his grip on it and pulled it away from her, hard.

"I'll need that for the Hex, won't I?" he said in a scathing tone that clearly was meant to indicate how stupid Hermione was.

"But it's _my_ wand," she insisted, pulling back just as hard.

"What's yours is _mine_," he retorted, yanking so hard that Hermione stumbled and nearly fell over. A warning tickle began in her mind.

Both of them stopped and stared daggers at each other. The tickle receded, yet neither would relinquish control of the wand. Hermione realized that if she backed down, it would be the first step to his will gaining the upper hand over hers.

"We'll both hold it," she said with steely determination.

"Fine," he forced out between narrowed lips.

They both looked contemptuously away and continued their descent to the Slytherin area of the castle, holding the wand between them like a bridge over a vast chasm.

--/--/--/--/--

Some time later, the Snapes currently in residence in their quarters were rudely startled out of their current occupations (Teaching-Snape was grading papers, and Insecure-Snape wasn't doing much of anything other than brooding, by the looks of it) by the door bursting open, spilling their malicious counterpart and Hermione into the room.

The two intruders were laughing like there would be no tomorrow. Well, in the case of Malicious-Snape it was more of an evil gurgle, but Hermione was laughing so hard she had to sit down in order not to wet herself.

Insecure-Snape, affronted, got up and slipped into the bedroom. Hermione, her eyes clouded with tears of mirth, nevertheless saw him go and called out, "Professor! You don't need to leave, Professor!" before dissolving again into peals of laughter and literally rolling around on the floor.

"Do you two mind?" Teaching-Snape drawled. "I'm trying to mark the fourth-year essays."

Malicious-Snape went over to the desk and picked up a handful of the parchments in question.

"What do you think you're doing?" Teaching-Snape protested and tried to retrieve them, but Malicious-Snape was too fast for him, tossing the lot into the open grate, where a fire was merrily burning away.

"_Extingua_!" Teaching-Snape exclaimed with remarkable presence of mind, luckily being in possession, as per usual, of their wand.

"Pity," Malicious-Snape said.

Teaching-Snape glared, but said nothing as he bent over to fish the singed papers out of the ashes.

Hermione, in the meantime, had regained control over her faculties, her paroxysms of hilarity reduced to a few hiccupy giggles.

"Did you see his face?" she asked, obviously working hard to contain herself.

Snape smirked. "Yes. I do believe he's jealous. An excellent side-effect of this little situation."

"What?" She looked in confusion and horror at Teaching-Snape, who seemed to be paying them little mind.

"Not him, you dolt! The other one." Malicious-Snape jerked his head toward the bedroom.

Comprehension dawned, but Hermione found that idea nearly as ridiculous. "Not him! Malfoy! Did you see Malfoy's face!"

"Yes, that was also quite amusing," Snape agreed.

"And he's not jealous," she added. He couldn't be. That was silly. He was just sulky. Probably still upset that no one wanted to Bond with him.

"No?" Snape raised his eyebrows.

"No," Hermione replied firmly. "And you should stop being so mean to him."

"I can't help myself," Malicious-Snape said both smugly and truthfully. "It's too easy."

"When you're all together again, it's just going to make the lot of you miserable in there."

Malicious-Snape's face darkened. "I will not be forced together with him."

Teaching-Snape sniffed in what sounded like a meaningful way, but when Hermione spun around to look at him, he was dutifully marking essays.

"I won't!" Malicious-Snape repeated, with emphasis.

"Where are the rest anyway?" Hermione asked, looking around. There were two Snapes unaccounted-for.

"Up in the Headmaster's office," Teaching-Snape murmured, pausing to dip his quill into the inkpot before him.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Doing what?"

"Being Bonded," he droned.

"What, without us?" Hermione was surprised, and more than a little affronted. That meant they had to have gotten another witness.

"It would appear so," Teaching-Snape answered dryly. Or perhaps only factually.

"It does only take two," Malicious-Snape reminded her in a condescending tone. "Well, in our case, three." He eyed her in a lascivious manner that made Hermione feel both squeamish and, admittedly, slightly horny.

"I never did get to properly put you in your place last night," he continued, advancing now on her. Hermione closed her hand around her wand, which she had, thankfully, somehow ended up in possession of after their visit to the Slytherin dorms.

Teaching-Snape eyed the two of them. "If you're going to have sex, do it in the other room," he said peremptorily. "I have precisely twenty-four essays to get through before tomorrow morning."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in horror at the suggestion. "I should think not, thank you very much!"

"We'll do it wherever we bloody well please!" Malicious-Snape retorted, misunderstanding her objection on purpose. To Hermione, he cajoled, "It would annoy him no end. Think of it as a little revenge for his unfair marking schemes."

Hermione pulled her robes close around her neck. "No!" Although, admittedly, she was a bit titillated at the proposition and curious to see what a non-coercive encounter would entail, decorum demanded that she refuse.

He appeared to be on the verge of pressing the point, but then apparently remembered the unpleasantness that could ensue if Hermione were to become overly distressed and grumbled instead, "Then I'll have to go and torture Snivellus a bit," pushing past Hermione to the room which Insecure-Snape had retired to earlier.

"You will do no such thing!" Hermione hurried after him, entering the bedroom just in time to see Insecure-Snape's eyes widen in shock at the intrusion.

"We'll be needing this room," Malicious-Snape sneered, tossing back the covers on the bed.

"What...?" Insecure-Snape's eyes flitted from his doppelganger to Hermione, whose frown he interpreted as being directed at him.

"Unless you want to stay and watch?" Malicious-Snape leered suggestively.

"Watch?" Insecure-Snape repeated dumbly.

"Seems she just can't get enough of me," Malicious-Snape said, loosening his robes.

Hermione only now cottoned on to what he was up to. It seemed that Insecure-Snape did, too, for he stiffened up and began edging toward the door.

"Shut up!" Hermione told Malicious-Snape crossly. "I told you no! He's just saying that to get your goat," she informed Insecure-Snape. "Which is ridiculous. I mean, like you'd care." She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner.

"I don't care," Insecure-Snape murmured, not looking at her.

"Of course you don't," Malicious-Snape agreed. "You wouldn't care to get a handful of that firm, round, arse." He reached down and pinched Hermione on that very protrusion.

She gave a little exclamation of surprise and slapped his hand away, but couldn't help thinking of what it had felt like to have him touch her bare cheek the previous night. A little thrill went through her.

"Nor to nuzzle up against that smooth, soft neck..." Hermione recalled the scratch of his cheek, the heat of his breath. But it was wrong! She didn't desire him! He was old and ugly and cruel. She'd done what she had to, but that was over now.

Malicious-Snape was continuing, taunting Insecure-Snape: "...or to bury your—"

"That's enough!" Hermione cut him off, her voice taking on an uncontrollably shrill tone. Insecure-Snape was looking quite uncomfortable, and she wasn't feeling entirely at ease herself. "You're getting nowhere with this. He obviously doesn't care. You're only making a fool of yourself. I think you're just miffed I won't ... do what you want and you're trying to embarrass me. All right. You've succeeded. Happy?"

"How can I be with you stopping me from doing anything even halfway amusing? You're as bad as the dutiful one and the self-preserving one put together," he said with disgust.

"Look, you can't spend every waking moment getting revenge on someone. Don't you want to... I don't know, read a book or something?"

"You mistake me for the smart one," he sniffed.

"You're smart, too! You're not purely sadistic, you know. I've noticed that each of you has some of the others in him, too. He's not entirely without pride." She gestured toward Insecure-Snape. "You can lie through your teeth when it serves your purposes; the one who teaches us can be pretty smart. I think you can control your impulses. You just don't want to. You're self-indulgent and juvenile."

"And you're a self-important, prudish goose."

"I am not!"

"Blue-stocking!"

"Oh!" She stamped her foot and let out a little scream. "You're impossible! Why is he like this?" she asked Insecure-Snape, just blowing off steam, not expecting an answer.

Insecure-Snape mumbled something at his shoes.

"What? I didn't catch that."

"Senseless drivel, no doubt," Malicious-Snape said.

"Sh! I want to hear. He's always had very good ideas. What did you say, Professor?"

Insecure-Snape shook his head. "Nothing."

"No really, I want to hear. Do you know why he's always trying to hurt people? I mean, the rest of you I can pretty much figure out. Everyone's got more or less some degree of insecurity or intelligence or sense of duty. If I were split up, those aspects of me would probably also manifest themselves. But I don't think I've got an entire vengeful side to me. Nor do most people. So what made that particular personality type split off from you?"

"I don't know," Insecure-Snape said, just a bit too quickly.

"He doesn't know!" Malicious-Snape redoubled. "And you don't need to know, either. Does there have to be a reason for everything? It's a good thing I was around, though, or else I would have been walked all over by the likes of Potter and Black."

Insecure-Snape whimpered a bit.

"You mean Harry's father?" She recalled that there had been a discussion a while back about the systematic bullying which James Potter and his friends had put Snape through during their school years.

"All attitude and no brain," Malicious-Snape said through his teeth. "Thought they were better than everyone else and wanted to make sure we knew it. I should have crushed them... would have, too, if the others hadn't stood in my way."

"There were too many of them," Insecure-Snape spoke up weakly.

"Bah! Too many of us, more like it. If it had just been me, don't think they would have come back for seconds."

In the next room, a clock chimed six times, followed by the sound of a chair being pushed back. "Time for dinner," barked out Teaching-Snape.

Hermione and Malicious-Snape exchanged a look. It was time for her to bring him back to Dumbledore's office.

"Are you going to come quietly, or do I need to get Professor Snape to help?"

Malicious-Snape's nostrils flared as he regarded Insecure-Snape contemptuously. "As if he had any control over me."

"Not him. Him." Hermione raised her eyebrows in the direction of the door, where Teaching-Snape was standing, tapping his wand against his arm.

In an instant, Malicious-Snape was on him, but Hermione quickly Immobilized him before any damage could be done.

"Levicorpus," she sighed, allowing Teaching-Snape to clamber to his feet once again. "He really is tiresome, isn't he?" she commented, herding the hovering professor toward the door.

"I really should be getting to dinner," Teaching-Snape said, obviously torn between the duty to represent his House and helping Hermione.

"Never mind, Professor. I can handle it from here. Good night, Professor," she added over her shoulder in the direction of Insecure-Snape as she navigated her way out of his quarters with her frozen charge.

If only there were a way to get rid of this obsession with getting his own back, Hermione fretted as she made her way toward the Headmaster's office, trying to avoid the more oft-frequented hallways. She didn't fancy explaining why she had Professor Snape in a Body-Bind.

End chapter


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